


Friendly Fire

by MsChievous



Category: Final Fantasy XV
Genre: Angst, Attempted Rape/Non-Con, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Promptis if you squint, Spoilers for Chapter 13, but I'll but a warning before the chapter, it's just one scene in one chapter and they don't get far at all, oh god so much angst
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-16
Updated: 2017-04-27
Packaged: 2018-10-19 08:22:03
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 12
Words: 21,888
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10636014
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MsChievous/pseuds/MsChievous
Summary: Written for thekinkmeme fill"Someone tries to shoot Noctis while he's out and about in the city."It started out like that, but then plot happened, so I had to take a few liberties. I hope you still enjoy!





	1. A Premature Attempt

**Author's Note:**

> Hey y'all! This is my first fanfiction since back in my ffnet days. I wasn't planning on writing fanfiction much anymore because it's time consuming, but here we are. This fic is looking to be at least 10 chapters, but probably more because I'm not sure I can stop writing.

For the first time in his life, Noctis wished he was in one of his father’s meetings.

“So,” His math teacher clapped her hands to get everyone’s attention. “The next project you all are going to be working on is a partner project and-!” She clapped her hands again as the room started buzzing and Noctis’ heart sank.

He _hated_ partner projects. One-on-one social interaction sucked just as much as group interaction. At least in group interactions he could sink to the background and ignore everyone.

“And, _I_ will be assigning the partners. I know you just _love_ getting to work with your best buddy, but that might not be how you work best. So here’s the list. Come up, find your name, find your partner. Then I’ll give you your project theme.”

Noctis didn’t want to move. He didn’t want to find out who he was paired with. He could only stand a few people in this classroom, and even almost all of those people were pushing it. Groaning, Noctis started to get to his feet.

“Hey, Noct!” A familiar voice called to him from the front of the room. He looked up. Prompto was walking over to him with a bright smile. “You’re my partner, dude. What a coincidence,” He looped his arm around Noct’s shoulders. “But real talk, did you bribe Ms. Hiroch?” He asked in a loud whisper, “Use royal influence? Tell me your secrets man.”

“I put you two together because I thought you’d work well together,” Ms. Hiroch’s voice piped up from behind them, causing them to jump. “If you think this arrangement might be a problem, I can-”

“No, no problem, Ms Hiroch, we’ll work super hard, I pinky _promise_!” Prompto assured her, holding up his pinky finger. Noctis nodded his agreement, not willing to part with someone he actually got along with.

Ms. Hiroch gave a slight grin and nodded. “I’m sure. That’s why I gave you a slightly harder topic. Explaining why the square root of every prime number is irrational. If you need any help, don’t hesitate to ask.” With that, she walked over to the next pair and gave them their topic.

“So we can get started right now, but do you wanna meet after school to work on it some more?” Prompto asked, pulling up a chair to sit on.

Noctis shrugged ambivalently.

“I choose to take that as a yes, Your Majesty…” Prompto said with an overt bow.

“You’re a dork, you know that?”

“I live to please.” Prompto smirked, bopping Noctis on the nose with a finger. “But let’s get started, shall we?”

 

* * *

 

After three hours of staring at lesson notes and various textbooks, Prompto and Noctis concluded that their math teacher was a sadist.

“Who can understand this? Where does the “p” come from? Why is that A there? And what the crap is the “f” doing with the B? I thought it was over with the A?” Prompto ran his hand through his hair.

“I...I have no clue.” Noctis admitted. He had always felt like he was decent at math. It vaguely made sense to him, at least. But this was too abstract for his liking. Give him a word problem with a thousand steps over this crap any day.

“I guess we should probably ask her about it tomorrow,” Prompto suggested, glancing at his watch. “In the meantime, it's getting pretty late. I should be heading home before it gets too dark.”

Noctis stood up, “Okay. I guess I’ll walk back home too. I have a friend I can ask for help, too,” He shoved his notes and textbooks back in his bag. “I’ll catch up with you tomorrow!”

Prompto waved back, “See ya!”

Noctis took his time getting ready, making sure that he had all his books, and even removing some books his didn’t need any more from his locker. Anything to procrastinate from the political report that was no doubt waiting for him at home. At least he didn’t have to go to the meetings themselves. That would have been horrid.

Insomnia was always pretty at night, he noticed as he started his walk home. The street lights glistened off the glass faces of sky scrapers that stretched elegantly into the night sky. But... something was overshadowing his usual delight. It felt like he was being followed, but in the basically empty streets around him, he couldn’t make out anyone he recognized. So he started walking faster, trying to force himself to take in the beauty of the city at night. He allowed his gaze to trace up the side of a particularly tall building ahead.

He was about to move on to another building when some movement from the roof caught his attention. Something glinted in the moonlight. At least he thought. It was a long way up, he couldn’t really tell. But alarm bells went off in his head, and pieces of a puzzle connected: he was the only person on this street, there was no place to run or hide, and he felt like he was being followed. Instincts took over and probably saved his life.

Within seconds, he had summoned his sword and flung it across the street. It didn’t make it all the way across, instead sticking into the side of a freight truck, but it didn’t matter. It got Noctis away as a gunshot cracked through the night air.

Noctis warped to his sword and immediately warped again. He had little more plan than “Move.” He knew he was running out of magic, but, luckily, the person who shot at him didn’t take any more shots. Noctis tried to see if they were still there, but the building was so tall and now so far away.

He took a deep breath, adrenaline coursing out of his body and leaving him weak-kneed. He sat down on the ground heavily and pulled out his phone, dialing Ignis’ number with shaking fingers.

Ignis answered after two rings, “I’m sorry Highness, did you want me to pick you up?”

Noctis hesitated, not trusting his voice to remain level. He should be ready for this. He was going to be king. A little assassination was to be expected. But it was so _sudden_ and _scary_ and he didn’t know what to do. How to react. “I-Iggy…” Noctis hated how small his voice sounded and how it wavered.

“Noctis, are you okay? Are you injured?” Worry cut through loud and clear. “Are you in danger? Do you need me?”

“...J-just… I just need you to pick me up. I-I’m by the Rand building.”

“Are you injured?” In the background, Noctis already heard the purring of a car engine. How did Iggy make it to the car so fast?

Noctis checked himself for injuries. “I-I don’t think so. It was pretty close though. Some...um, someone had a gun. Or, or a rifle, I guess. And, well, I… I guess I owe Gladio a bunch of thanks, eh?” He forced a laugh.

“I’ll be there in ten minutes. Would you like me to stay on the line?” Ignis offered.

“Y-yeah. Please. Thank you.” He paused. “Does this mean I get out of reading that report?” He tried, cracking a small smile.

On the other line, Ignis gave a breathy laugh. “I’m sure we can forgive this one time. But don’t expect such pampering in the future.”

 

* * *

 

Regis gripped the arms of his throne as Ignis gave him a painfully detailed account of a second assassination attempt on his son’s life. He wanted whoever caused his son grief to suffer. But first they had to catch the son of a bitch.

“And you have no leads?” Regis asked, voice laced with disapproval.

“None, sire,” Ignis spat. He hated not having the answers, “Gladio is staying with him for the time being. We’re working under the assumption that he will be safest in the relative anonymity of his apartment, with increased security, of course.”

“Logical.” Regis couldn’t keep the anger out of his voice. He knew that the palace wasn’t much safer than his son’s apartment. In fact, it was easier to hide in simply because of its massive size, but he hated not being there for his son. It seemed like at every important moment in his son’s life, he was absent.

“I understand you wish to be with your son, and he wants to be with you-”

“What I wish is for my son to be safe. I trust that you will do everything in your power to keep keep him so.”

Ignis nodded and took his leave. He was careful to watch his rearview mirrors for any cars that might be tailing him, but saw none as he pulled into the parking garage of Noctis’ apartment complex.

He was stopped no less than five times between the parking garage and the elevator. But most people knew his face, so he was allowed to pass easily.

When he got to the door of the prince’s, he knocked three times, paused, then knocked twice. The door opened slowly, revealing Gladio’s hulking form. Gladio registered Ignis and stepped inside, glancing outside warily before closing the door.

“How is His Highness?” Ignis asked, taking off his shoes.

Gladio sighed. “Moping, but that’s to be expected. He’s not too bad, considering. Just shaken up.”

Ignis sighed and nodded, stepping into the living room. All the curtains were drawn, blocking out any natural light, and two Kingsglaive lounged on the couch, hoods drawn back to reveal their faces.

Noctis was sitting on the loveseat, at least pretending he was doing homework. He glanced up as Iggy walked in and looked away in shame. When Iggy had picked him up after the attempt, Noctis had broken into tears and hugged Ignis close for nearly a minute before Iggy ushered him into the car for safety. Then Noctis asked Iggy to stay with him until he fell asleep, which of course Iggy did. Noctis hated that someone, even a good friend like Iggy, had seen him at his lowest.

“Hello, Noctis, I’m glad you’re feeling a bit better.” Ignis said with a slight bow.

“Yeah. Did you find out who did it yet?” Noctis asked softly.

Ignis shook his head. “Unfortunately, we have no clues. His Majesty has almost all of the Crownsguard working on it as we speak, as well as a few of his own personal Kingsglaive, obviously,” He nodded to the two on the couch.

Noctis nodded slowly with a sound of uncertainty. He snapped his book shut and got to his feet. “I’m going to go to bed,” He said, shuffling over to his bedroom.

“Of course. And which one of us would you like in there while you do?” Ignis asked.

“I don’t care. You choose.”

Ignis thought it over carefully. The Kingsglaive were more powerful than Ignis and Gladio, with the ability to warp and summon shields through the power of the crystal, but Noctis was more comfortable around him and Gladio. At that thought, Ignis mentally scolded himself. They didn’t have the comfort of caring about Noctis’ feelings. They needed to keep him safe.

“One of you two,” He pointed at the Kingsglaives. They looked at each other. A brown-haired man with braids stood up with a shrug.

“I guess I can babysit. I’ll let you know if anything happens,” The Kingsglaive followed Noctis into his room, shutting the door behind them.

Ignis watched the door swing shut with a heavy heart. This had been the second attempt on the Prince’s life, but the first one since he had officially started serving as the Prince’s advisor. He was almost as shaken up about it as Noctis was.

Gladio noticed Ignis’ expression and laid a gentle hand on his friend’s shoulder. “Hey, now, Iggy, if anything, _I’m_ the one to blame. I’m his Shield. Fat lotta good I did him.”

“Noctis _did_ mention that it was most likely due to your training that he survived physically unscathed.”

“Hm? He really said that, did he? Musta been the shock. Can’t see him admitting it out loud,” Gladio’s eyebrows raised slightly in amusement. The prince had always complained about training at such a young age, but obviously that had been a smart choice. Unfortunate that it had paid off so early in Noctis’ life.


	2. A Complicated Mess

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In this chapter, everyone worries about Noctis, and Prompto and Ignis decide to do something about it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for all the amazing feedback! It makes me feel all warm and fuzzy to know that people are enjoying what I'm writing! Kudos to you all! ;D Enjoy this next chapter!

Noctis’s nap was interrupted by his cell phone ringing. He groaned and looked at who was calling him. Prompto.

With a sigh, Noctis accepted the call and flopped back in his bed. “H’llo?” He mumbled.

“Hey, Noct, how’re you doing? You weren’t at school today, so I got worried. You sick or something?”

“Or something. Just… just not feeling it today,” Noctis really didn’t want to lie to his friend, but didn’t want to worry him either.

There was an exasperated sigh on the other line. “Noct, you can’t just skip school when you don’t feel like coming, even if you _are_ the prince,” There was a pause, “Unless you actually can, and in that case, can you grant immunity to me too?”

Despite himself, Noctis snorted, “No, my dad outranks me in that respect, so I still gotta go. Sorry, Prompto.”

Prompto laughed, “Aw, damn it! Anyway, I got your homework all collected. If you’re feeling up to it, we could meet somewhere and look over it. I also asked Ms. Hiroch about our topic, and I think I kinda understand it, so we can work on that as well. It’s due in a week, so we have a lot of time, but-”

“Sorry,” Noctis cut Prompto off before the blonde could make too many plans, “I… I can’t leave right now. I don’t- I… Yeah, I can’t leave.”

“Wait,” Prompto’s voice was confused, trying to hide amusement “Are you _grounded_? Oh, my Six, you’re totally grounded!” Prompto laughed again. “In that case, I can just drop off your books at your place or something. Though, now that I think about it, your place is the _palace_. Can I just walk in there?”

“Look, Prompto, it’s fine. I’ll just send Iggy to the school to pick everything up. Thanks, though. I’m sorry, but I gotta go.”

“Okay man, sorry for laughing about you being grounded, and I hope you get ungrounded soon. See ya!”

“See ya,” Noctis replied, ending the call with his thumb. He fell back on his bed and covered his eyes with his arm, mental exhaustion taking its toll.

“Who is this Prompto?” A voice asked from a darkened corner of the room.

Panic flooded through Noctis before he realized the voice belonged to the Kingsglaive who watched over him. “Um, he’s a friend from school. He was just wondering where I was.”

The Kingsglaive nodded. “You up for good this time? Ignis came in an hour ago with some food. If we hurry, Gladio might not have eaten it all.”

With a forced laugh, Noctis got to his feet and padded into the living room. Ignis and Gladio were at the loveseat, watching T.V. on a low volume setting, while the other Kingsglaive paced around the living room. The smell of something sweet wafted from the kitchen. At the sight of Noctis out and about, Gladio and Ignis jumped to their feet.

“Hello, Noct. Are you feeling less tired?”

“Hey, Iggy, yeah, I think I’m doing a little better. What’s for dinner?”

Ignis hurried over to the kitchen and handed the prince a bowl of soup and a cookie. “If you want, I’m sure I could be convinced to let you eat that on the couch so you can watch T.V while eating.”

Noctis nodded his thanks and sat on the couch, burrowing deeply into a pile of blankets as he flicked through the television channels. He stopped on a show that looked vaguely interesting and started eating, trying to lose himself in the show.

Gladio walked over to where Ignis was watching the back of Noctis’ head, lost in thought. Gladio tapped him lightly on the shoulder. “What’cha thinking about?” He asked softly, so Noctis couldn’t overhear.

Ignis sighed. “I simply worry for his sake. The last time something like this happened to him, he spent long, hard months recovering,” He said, meeting Gladio’s gaze. “I don’t want him to have to go through that again.”

With an understanding nod, Gladio rubbed his forehead. “But how long is he gonna have to stay under lock and key like this? He needs some kind of normalcy in his life.”

“His desire for normalcy comes after his need to be safe,” The words hurt Ignis to say, but he knew they were true.

A clattering from the living room cut off Gladio’s response. Noctis had jumped to his feet, turning on his advisor and shield angrily. “Y’know, you don’t need to talk like I’m not here. I have these things called ears!” He stormed off to his room, slamming the door behind him.

“Whoops,” Was all Gladio could say. They hadn't realized that their voices had risen in volume.

Without a word, one of the Kingsglaive strode over to the door and tried to open it. It was locked. “Highness, one of us need to be in there with you, and if you don’t open this door, I will be forced to climb around the outside. That will look very suspicious. No doubt lots of guards will come crawling into your apartment. If you don’t want that, just unlock the damn door.”

There was a pause before a small _click_ was heard. The Kingsglaive twisted the knob and stepped inside, closing the door quickly behind him. Another _click_ made it known that the Kingsglaive was an unwanted but necessary exception. No one else was allowed inside.

 

* * *

 

Prompto looked at Noctis’ empty seat. He had been gone for nearly a week now. Prompto had worked on their group project as much as he could, but with his other duties, he wasn’t sure he could finish in time. Ms. Hiroch seemed empathetic to his plight, but told him to wait a couple days before the project’s due date. If Noctis still wasn’t in class, she would give them an extension. Prompto was almost tempted to tell Noctis to stay away for another few days so they would have more time.

The bell of the final class rang, and Prompto got to his feet, gathering up his notes for Noctis. He made a quick stop by Noctis’ locker to pull out the necessary books before heading over to the main office.

As usual, Ignis was waiting there, tapping through his phone. He glanced up when Prompto walked in, weighed down by the extra books. “Ah, Prompto, thank you very much. I’m sure His Highness appreciates it.” Ignis said, as usual.

Usually Prompto said little more than, ‘Of course!’ or ‘Any time.’ But today, he decided to switch it up. The question was burning up in his chest anyway. “When is Noctis going to get ungrounded?”

Ignis’ eyes widened. “Ungrounded?” He paused, considering the question. “We’re not quite sure. Is there a reason you ask?”

Prompto felt his face flush. It _was_ a personal question. “I- We have this project due in a little less than a week, and Noctis is my partner, and we really haven’t gotten much done.” He sputtered.

Ignis nodded slowly. “Excuse me a minute.” He stepped outside, pulling out his phone and holding it to his ear. Prompto watched as he paced back and forth, hands moving as if he was explaining something to someone. No doubt asking if Prompto could visit despite the grounding.

Ignis came back a few minutes later. “Alright, Prompto, the king has given his permission for you to visit Noctis,” He said. “Do you or your family have any objections to leaving right now?”

Taken aback at how easily someone like him had been granted access to the palace, Prompto could only shake his head.

“Then come with me.”


	3. A Friendly Face

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After nearly two weeks of solitude, Noctis is allowed a visitor: Prompto. Later, tragedy ensues. These two events are not entirely unrelated.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for all the Kudos and comments! It's always nice to see people interested in what I write! I hope you all enjoy the next chapter! I must say, things get kinda real in the next chapter, and the super real in the one after that >:D
> 
> (I edited it a lil' bit since I first uploaded it to make later chapters make a little more sense in hindsight. It's not super important, and you might not even recognize what was changed, but it's there!)

It didn’t take Prompto all that long to realize they were not heading towards the Citadel. He decided not to mention it. If he did, Ignis might think he was only friends with Noctis for the status and cool hangout locations. Instead, he snapped a few pictures of high-rise buildings blocking out the sun and the shadows they cast on the ground.

Ignis looked at him out of the corners of his eyes, but said nothing, turning his gaze back to the road. After nearly fifteen minutes of mostly uncomfortable silence, he turned into a parking garage. “We’re here,” He said.

Prompto quickly stuffed his phone into his pocket and grabbed his backpack, waiting patiently as Ignis parked the car and turned off the ignition. He took in his surroundings, trotting to keep up with the long-legged advisor. The parking garage was spacious and well-lit, the complete opposite of the ones he was used to.

He stopped short to avoid running into Ignis, who was explaining Prompto’s presence to a stern-looking guard. The guard gave Prompto an up-and-down look, snorted, then waved the pair through the door to the elevator bay. There were so many guards around, giving him suspicious side-eyes.

“Um…” Prompto whispered, leaning in close to Ignis, “Are they normally like this, or is something wrong?” He asked. He had no experience with security guards outside of the ones at shopping malls. Maybe the guards could just tell that he didn’t belong.

“Pay it no mind,” Ignis replied, stepping into the waiting elevator.

That wasn't really an answer, but Prompto followed his lead anyway, fingers clenching anxiously on his backpack strap. While this place wasn’t the palace, it seemed just as lavish: thick carpeting, white marble accented with gold, and everything polished to perfection. He felt like he should have a cardboard sign taped to his chest: ‘I don’t belong here. Please ask me to leave.’

He swallowed the anxiety as Ignis steppe into the elevator swiped a card across a reader, and the doors quickly closed, _whoosh_ ing upwards. Prompto watched the lights on the side of the elevator quickly count up. When the lights reached the number 30, the elevator stopped, and the bell gave a small ting.

There were two men in suits pacing down the hallway. At the sound of the elevator arriving, they locked eyes with Ignis, then their gazes fell onto Prompto. He lowered his gaze, scooting closer to Ignis to avoid their eye contact.

“He’s with me. Don’t worry,” Ignis assured the men, walking down the hall. Prompto could still feel the judgements from the guards, but none of them made a move to throw him out. When they arrived at Noctis’ door at the end of the hallway, Prompto breathed a sigh of relief. Finally, he could just sit with Noctis and forget everything.

Ignis knocked a few times, paused, then knocked twice more. Prompto quirked an eyebrow. They had a special knock? That seemed a little extreme, considering the amount of security Prompto had seen. But then again, what did he know about the security royals faced daily?

The door opened, revealing a broad-shouldered man who looked vaguely familiar. His gaze immediately went to Prompto, then flicked back to Ignis. He stepped aside, allowing the pair to enter. Prompto saw him glancing back outside before shutting the door and locking it. Dread settled in his stomach. This really seemed like too much.

“I-Is something wrong?” Prompto asked, slipping his shoes off. “Everyone seems really… really on edge. Is there-” He caught himself before he could humiliate himself. What could he realistically do if something was wrong?

Ignis glanced to the broad-shouldered man and sighed. “Noctis can tell him. Gladio, tell him Prompto is here.”

The broad-shouldered man, Gladio, nodded and entered the main apartment.

Prompto glanced to Ignis and was about to speak but thought better of it and instead followed Ignis into the living room. Noctis was lying on the couch, and Prompto could tell by the light snoring that he was napping through Gladio’s attempts to wake him. Then his gaze shifted to a pair of soldiers in full Kingsglaive uniforms, minus the cool hoods.

He stopped short at the sight, but forced himself to set his backpack down and walked to Noctis’ side. He didn’t miss the Kingsglaives’ gazes locked onto his every move, the way they repositioned themselves to move at a moment’s notice.

“Damn it, Noct, wake up!” Gladio slammed his open palm into the side of the couch, but the prince barely mumbled and turned on his side.

“Here,” Prompto brushed Gladio aside. “Learn how to do it from the master.” He turned to the Kingsglaive as an afterthought, “Uh, this may look bad. But don’t worry, I know what I’m doing.”

That only served to set the Kingsglaive more on edge, but they nodded, understanding that Ignis would never bring someone into the apartment who could pose a danger to Noctis.

With a deep breath, Prompto launched himself onto Noctis’s stomach, landing half on-top of the sleeping prince. “Noooooooct!” He crooned, tickling the spot where Noct was most ticklish, the flesh between his neck and shoulder.

Noctis groaned and opened his eyes. “What the-?” He focused on the smiling face in front of him and had to do a double take. “Prompto? What? How?” He tried to sit up, but Prompto was still draped on top of him, chin resting on his chest, and adorable smile pasted on his face. “Can you get off? Why are you here?”

Prompto leaned back so that Noctis could sit up. “Ignis drove me over. We still have to do that project for Ms. Hiroch. Remember? Also, you’ve been getting really good grades on your homework and I really need to know your secret because I don’t understand trig at all.”

A laugh escaped Noctis’ lips. “It was all Iggy. See if he can tutor you. But yeah, let’s get started on math,” He said. Then he caught a glance of Prompto’s face. “Dude, are you okay? You look exhausted. Like, really exhausted.”

Prompto shrugged. “Dunno. I’ve been getting as much sleep as usual, I just wake up really tired. It's a little weird, but I’ll be fine. You, on the other hand, you look like you've gotten too _much_ sleep! Your hair's a _mess_!”

Noctis wrapped an arm around Prompto’s shoulders and wrestled him down to the pillow. “Now, I think you’re being rude to your prince. You should apologize!” He growled playfully, giving the blond a noogie with his free hand.

Prompto gave a laughing shout and tried to wriggle out of Noctis’ grip, only succeeding in falling off the couch and banging his arm into the edge of the coffee table.

Noctis quickly let go of Prompto, “Shit, are you okay Prompto?” He asked, face scrunched in worry.

There was silence as Prompto’s shoulders began to shake. For a second, Noctis thought Prompto was crying, but instead, he burst into laughter, clutching his stomach. “By the Six, man, you need to chill out!” He sat up straight, rubbing his arm. “You are like the physical embodiment of “no holds barred”,” He grinned.

Before Noctis could give a snappy response, Ignis cleared his throat, drawing their attention. “I believe that this is a study session, not a sleepover,” He said, quirking an eyebrow.

Noctis pouted but turned to the coffee table, where his history homework sat mostly undisturbed. Prompto flushed, but pulled his backpack closer and unloaded the trig project they needed to work on. “So…” He trailed off, staring at the equations scribbled on notebook paper. “I...I thought I understood what this meant, but I tried to explain it to someone else and have reached the conclusion that I actually have no clue. Any ideas?”

Before Noctis could respond that he was just as clueless as Prompto, Ignis shuffled forward and leaned over their shoulders. “I believe I could be of some assistance, if you wish?” He offered.

Prompto and Noctis couldn’t say ‘yes please’ fast enough.

 

* * *

 

Ignis would have allowed Prompto to stay as long as possible, but he determined that after a certain point, they ceased being productive and instead settled into a sort of rough horseplay over who would be whom in Super Smash Bros.

“If I am not Red Link, I swear on Titan’s strength that I will never talk to you again,” Prompto yelled, pushing Noctis against the arm of the couch.

“I’m always Red Link. You can be Blue Link, he’s just as good, just a different color,” Noctis retorted.

“Bullshit!” Prompto snapped. “Red Link is the best Link, and you know it.”

Any further bickering was quickly interrupted by Ignis clearing his throat. “Now, Prompto, we should be getting you home. It’s rather late now, and Noctis should be working on his political reports.”

Their faces fell, and Prompto pushed himself to his feet. “Yeah, thanks, Ignis. Bye, Noct! Can I come over tomorrow to work more on the project?” He directed the last question at Ignis, who nodded. “I see no problems with that, as long as you remain productive and don’t argue over who is going to be what character,” He said with a pointed glare.

Prompto laughed nervously and nodded at Noctis. “See ya tomorrow.”

It wasn’t until he was in the elevator down to the car that he realized he didn’t ask Noct why his security was unusually tight.

 

* * *

 

“Please, Iggy, just for a few minutes! I haven’t actually seen the outside in almost two weeks!” Noct pleaded. He was getting sick and tired of living with the curtains drawn. It felt like they sapped his strength, fueling his lethargy. He desperately needed to just step outside for a few minutes to breathe in the smells of his city, allowing its essence to surround him. Maybe it was Prompto’s appearance that afternoon that really prompted his sudden restlessness, but he couldn’t be sure.

Ignis paused. He desperately wanted to say yes. He could tell how anxious Noctis was getting, though the prince tried to hide it. His inner voice told him for the millionth time it seemed that Noctis’ personal feelings didn’t matter, only his safety. With a sigh, he shut up that voice and sighed. “Just for a few minutes,” He said. Then he nodded to a Kingsglaive, “Watch him out there.”

The Kingsglaive nodded, following Noctis as he threw aside the curtains and sliding glass door to his balcony.

The city below stretched out like a bucket of water spilled onto the ground. A skyscraper blocked his view to the left, but most of the rest of the buildings nearby were low apartment buildings, affording him a brilliant view of Lucis below him. Even as high up as he was, though, he couldn’t see where the edges of the city was, it was so vast. The magic energy from the wall pulsed around him, a constant reminder of his father’s duty and his own future.

Noctis sighed, shaking himself from the thought. It would do him no good. He should get inside. Iggy was right, it was dangerous outside. Even if his attacker had made no moves against him, it wasn’t like there were many openings.

Oh, gods, he was starting to think like Ignis.

With an exasperated noise, he pushed himself away from the railing. In hindsight, that was probably the best decision he made in his life.

A sudden, loud cracking sound echoed in Noctis' ears, and something hard punched into his chest. His mind reeled as he fell back against the glass sliding door, brows furrowing in confusion. What was happening? What did he get hit with? He glanced down at his chest and found his shirtfront darkening with blood. So much blood. Maybe  _too_ much blood.

That… that didn’t seem right.

“-ighness!” Through a haze of numbness, Noctis saw a face, but his senses were fading in and out. That was really weird. Was he that tired suddenly? Why was there blood?

He felt himself being dragged, and then nothingness.


	4. An Unfortunate Twist

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After recovering from the latest assassination attempt, Noctis gets news that he never expected to hear.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh, you are all gonna hate me for the end of this chapter. I'm sorry. I'll try to update quickly.
> 
> P.S Don't be afraid to give constructive criticism. I don't have a beta reader, and there's only so much I can do on my own.

Waking up was never very easy for Noctis. He was always so tired that he would just rather sleep all day if he was allowed. But this was something else. It was a smothering tiredness that felt unnatural. He didn’t quite like it, so he forced his eyes open.

Everything was bleary for a few minutes before he became aware of someone talking to his left.

“Hey, Iggy, yeah. I think he’s up. I’m not sure if he’s lucid, but his eyes are open again, at least.”

“Prompto…” Noctis didn’t have to look to recognize the blond's voice.

“Oh, never mind, he’s lucid. Gotta go,” Prompto spoke in a low voice. “Sorry,” he spoke louder, directing it towards Noctis, “Iggy was on the phone.” He stood up and sat on the edge of Noctis’ bed so the prince wouldn’t have to move to look at him. “How are you feeling?” He asked, brushing Noctis’ hair out of his eyes.

Noctis furrowed his eyebrows, taking in his friend’s haggard appearance. “Better than you look. Seriously dude, what happened to you? Is that a _cast_ on your wrist? And you still look like you haven’t slept in weeks.”

Prompto gave a breathy laugh. “Take a look at yourself before you start judging. You look pretty shitty, too. Though, you have the excuse of being shot. I dunno what happened with my wrist. I think I was sleepwalking? Dunno. It’s not a cast, though. It’s just a wrap.”

“Still, it looks-” Noctis stopped short, mind finally comprehending what Prompto had just implied, “Did you say I was shot? Wh- where?” His hands scrabbled weakly across his body, panic gripping his chest in an ice-cold fist.

Prompto grabbed his arms quickly, soothing him with soft shushes. “You’re fine now. There was no major damage. But you’re lucky. The doctors say that if you hadn’t moved at the last second, it probably would have hit your heart.”

“Well, lucky me, then.” Noctis sighed and closed his eyes. He had to think of something else, or the emotions would overwhelm him. He could already feel the prickle of tears at the corner of his eyes. He didn’t want to wipe them away for fear of bringing attention to them.

“So, I talked with Ms. Hiroch, and she’s willing to give us an extension given the circumstances, so that’s nice of her,” Prompto caught the beginnings of tears in his friend’s eyes and quickly changed the subject. “I think the whole class is jealous because from what I’ve heard, no one knows what they’re doing. Except maybe Mashi and her partner.”

“Mashi knows all,” Noct grinned weakly. Mashi was an absolute genius, and the only person who was more popular to be partnered with than Noct for class projects. She was a little egocentric but by no means unpleasant.

“Yeah. Oh, we started a new lesson in gym class: volleyball. I’m not too bad at it, but I’m not really tall enough to be a good spiker. I do like setting, though. I think you might too. Or, you could be the defense guy. I forget what that’s called. Library, or something.”

“The defender for a volleyball team is called a _library_?” Noctis asked incredulously, covering his smile with a hand.

“Well, no. But it _sounds_ like library. Let me look it up,” Prompto turned to his phone as Ignis entered the hospital room.

“Glad to see you awake, Highness. Are you feeling better?”

“Better than what? Better than if I was healthy? No.”

“Nah, dude, like, yesterday, you were awake and screaming and shit. Don’t you remember that?” Prompto glanced up from his phone.

Noctis’s heart sunk to his stomach. “Oh. Uh, no. I don’t. I-sorry for scaring you.”

“No matter,” Ignis chimed in. “We’re simply glad you’re-”

“Libero!” Prompto yelled, jumping onto his feet. “It’s called a libero!”

Ignis stared at Prompto in utter confusion for a solid five seconds before shaking his head. “What’s called a libero?” He asked, against his better judgement.

“Oh, the defense guy in a volleyball team. I was just telling Noct that he would probably make a good libero.”

“Except you called it “library”, smartass,” Noctis smirked from his pile of pillows.

“Now, you…” Prompto wagged his finger in mock anger, “You need to shut up,” He grinned.

Ignis gave an exasperated smile. “I just wanted to check up on you, but I see there’s no need. Call me if you need anything, and there will always be two Kingsglaive outside the door at all times, so yell if you need anything from them.”

“Got it,” Noctis replied. When Iggy closed the door, he shifted his gaze to Prompto. “I challenge you to a game of King’s Knight.” He said with a lopsided grin.

“Oh, you are so going down!”

 

* * *

 

After a tense week in the hospital, Noctis was released with little more than a scar, some nightmares, and the occasional stinging pain when he moved his arm too fast. There was the ever-looming threat of death, and it got closer every time they relaxed their guard.

Noctis almost thought Ignis was taking the latest attempt worse than he was. Granted, he was still in shock and couldn’t quite wrap his head around the idea that someone tried to kill him, but Ignis was still taking it pretty hard, considering he had literally nothing to do with it. When Noctis tried to pry to figure out why, Ignis answered simply.

“I allowed my affection and concern for you to cloud my judgement. If I had not allowed you outside, you would not have been injured.”

“Don’t blame yourself,” Noctis placed his hand on Iggy’s shoulder, wincing as he realized he used his injured arm and it _still_ didn’t like being moved. “It was almost worth it, just being outside for a bit. I-it made me feel better.”

Ignis adjusted his glasses, glancing in the rearview mirrors for the bajillionth time, “I am glad you enjoyed it, but we simply cannot risk it any more. I am afraid that I will make no more exceptions. And don’t try and go behind my back. All of the Kingsglaive and Crownsguard have strict orders not to allow you to step outside unless absolutely necessary. And at those times, you are to be completely surrounded by bodyguards,” Ignis replied.

Each word felt like a sword in Noctis’ chest. At this point, he would rather die. No one could live like this for long, and he had been housebound for nearly two weeks. Video games and movies could only do so much to engage him.

He turned towards the window to pout and suddenly noticed they were driving up the road towards the Citadel. “Wait, why aren’t we going to my apartment?" He asked.

“The reason we kept you in your apartment at all was because we believed your place of residence to be unknown. That was our biggest security. But now that it’s obvious we don’t have the benefit of anonymity, we must keep you close to those who can protect you,” Ignis replied, still keeping his eyes more on the cars behind him than the ones in front or around him.

Noctis nodded reluctantly. His room in the Citadel would make for a change of pace, if nothing else. Plus, he had all of his old video games back in his old room. That would give him a wave of nostalgia that would hopefully drown him.

He must have dozed off, because the next thing he knew, Ignis was shaking his shoulder. “Highness, we must get going. Your father wishes to speak with you. In the meantime, I will pick up Prompto from his home and bring him over around 4. Is that okay?”

“Yeah, sounds great. Thanks.” He replied, getting out of the car and following Ignis around the secret back entrances of the Citadel, only really used in times of emergency. Noctis had never seen it used in his lifetime, and it was a little unnerving to be using it now.

The entrance spat them out a fair distance away from the throne room, but they didn’t have to worry: Regis was there, fingers tapping anxiously on his cane as Clarus stood ramrod-straight next to him.

When Regis caught sight of Noctis, he nearly tossed his cane aside in his rush to get to his son’s side. He enveloped Noctis in a warm hug, trying to put every ounce of sorrow, regret, and love he could into it.

Noctis stiffened, but quickly relaxed, reciprocating the hug with one of his own, ignoring the pain stabbing through his shoulder. He didn’t want his father to let go: he wanted to stay safe in his father’s arms. But he knew that at some point, they had to let go of each other, so Noctis drew back.

“Um, hey, dad. How… how are you doing?” He asked awkwardly, rubbing the back of his head with his hand.

Regis gave a sad laugh and lightly patted Noct’s back. “ _I’m_ the one who should be asking _you_ that. But I’ve been doing as well as can be expected. I’ve heard that the Crownsguard are chasing down a lead as we speak, so hopefully it will bear fruit.

A lump formed in Noctis’ throat at the reminder of his assassination, but at least it was finally good news. Maybe he would be able to go outside again soon, but he didn’t dare get his hopes up. Instead, he settled for a faint, “Great.”

A slightly awkward silence stretched between the father and son. “Um, dad, Prompto, you know, the guy I told you about? He’s coming over today to work on a school project,” Noctis paused, not quite sure why he told his father. No doubt he already knew.

“Of course, Prompto Argentum,” Regis smiled. “I can’t wait to meet him. But in the meantime, you should be resting. I’m sure you remember the way back to your room after all this time away from home?” Regis teased, ruffling Noctis’ hair lightly.

Noctis ducked his head with a laugh, “Better than you, old man!” He stuck out a playful tongue and started down the hallway, followed by a pair of Kingsglaive and a handful of Crownsguard.

 

* * *

 

Noctis jumped slightly at the knock on his door and glanced at his phone. Prompto wasn’t supposed to be here for another two hours. Maybe he was early? “Come in!” He called.

A Kingsglaive Noctis didn’t recognize stepped into his room with a bow. “Highness, your assassin has been found. Your father wanted me to tell you.”

A mix of relief and fear rushed through him. “A-are they here? At the palace?” He tried to calm his voice, but it didn’t quite work.

“He is being tried in the throne room as we speak.”

“Then I’m going there.” Noctis adjusted his glove and started walking out the door. The Kingsglaive’s hand shot out and grabbed his good arm.

“Highness, your father told me to keep you here, for your safety.”

Noctis tore out of her grip with a growl, “If he’s being tried, he’s no danger to me. I want to see for myself who would do this.”

The Kingsglaive paused before relenting. “Fine,” She said, “But I’m still accompanying you.”

“Fine,” Noctis spat. He knew he should be nicer, she was just doing her job, but he wanted, no, _needed_ to see the man who had tried to kill him.

The walk (or, more accurately, _run_ ) took too long. His thoughts were flying: who was his assassin? Was he part of a larger group? Was he just one crazed man? What were his reasons? Did he _have_ any?

Despite his racing thoughts, he stopped before the doors to the throne room. He nodded to one of the guards standing beside it. “Announce me,” He ordered.

The guards looked at each other. “I-I’m sorry, Your Highness. The King ordered that no one else be let inside. Not even you, Highness.”

Anger flashed in Noctis’ eyes, and only the thoughts of his injury kept him from slamming the guard’s head against the door and breaking it down himself. “Let me deal with my father. In the meantime, open the door and announce me or I’ll break it down.”

The Kingsglaive covered a snort as a guard quickly opened the door. “His Highness, Prince Noctis Lucis Caelum!” He announced, standing aside to let Noctis and the Kingsglaive in.

Noctis’s eyes were drawn to the kneeling figure chained to the floor almost immediately.

At the sight of his face, all the anger and hatred flew out of Noctis’ body, replaced by confusion. “Wh-what?” He asked weakly, taking a step back at the familiar, anguished face that was supposedly his assassin.

“P-Prompto?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm so sorry.


	5. A Guilty Face

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompto is captured by the Crownsguard and tried for treason. He can't possibly be guilty, can he?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry 'bout the ending to the last chapter. But not really. Here's to Chapter 5!
> 
> P.s, this is a slight flashback, just so y'all aren't confused.
> 
> Also, language. Be warned.

A knock on the door made Prompto stop cleaning up his latest attempt at complex cooking (i.e something that took more than three ingredients). He wasn’t bad at cooking, per se, he just lacked patience and the proper ingredients. There was only so much substitutions could do, after all.

He sighed, drying his hands on a towel, as a second, more insistent knock nearly broke down his door. “I’m coming. Ignis, is that you?” He called. Not like it could be many other people. “You’re early. I still need to...clean.” His voice trailed off as he opened the door to find an unfamiliar woman in black. “Hi. Can… can I help you?” He asked.

“Are you Prompto Argentum?” She asked, voice clipped and businesslike.

“Um, yes? Why-”

The rest of his words were cut off as he was whirled around and tackled. His cheek slammed into the rug in the entryway, the rough fabric scratching his skin. His hands here pinned behind his back, and a weight settled itself in the small of his back before he even had time to react. The savage pain of his right wrist being twisted awkwardly forced his body into action.

“Wh-what’s going on?” He yelled, wriggling desperately in an attempt to free himself. “Help! Help me, please!” He screamed, hoping at least one of his neighbors would hear it and call the cops. He thrashed even harder, trying to kick off the person on his back.

An uncomfortably warm and sweaty hand slapped itself over his mouth and another weight settled painfully across the back of his knees. He thrashed again, mouth opening wide and then chomping down on the hand.

He felt his teeth break skin, tasted the coppery taste of blood fill his mouth, and heard the scream of the hand’s owner. A sick satisfaction ran through his veins.

He didn’t get much time to celebrate as the hand pulled itself from his mouth and slammed his head into the ground. Stars danced in front of his vision and he vaguely heard voices speak above him.

“Did...did he _bite_ you?”

“Like a fucking monkey. Put a muzzle on him. He’s dangerous.”

The world slowly started to come into focus as a harsh piece of metal was slammed into his face, the edges digging into his jaw painfully as a strap was tightened around the back of his skull. His protests, however, were muffled through the metal and the fact that he couldn’t actually open his jaw.

In lieu of being able to speak, Prompto made his obstinance clear by writhing on the floor to escape from the hands that kept him captive. His foot found purchase on someone’s ankle, and he ruthlessly struck out with both feet. The vibrations from the foot’s owner falling over jarred Prompto’s cheek, but it was totally worth it. The weight disappeared from his knees and he grabbed the opportunity to slide his knees underneath him and arch his back to jerk the person on his back off. His vision was still blurry but he managed to jump to his feet and start running towards where he thought the exit was, trying to scream for help through the muzzle.

But before he could get too far, he felt a burning, stinging sensation nip him in the back of the neck, and his entire body spasmed, then collapsed, vision slowly turning black.

“By Ramuh....” He vaguely heard someone gasp, “the bastard’s a _squirmer_.”

He heard someone murmur something about a gun, but by then, he was too far gone to make anything out.

 

* * *

 

When he came to, Prompto’s head felt like a behemoth had used it as a playtoy. The light pierced his eyes, searing his retinas like an overdone burger, so he scrunched his eyes closed and grumbled against the pain.

Sudden realization washed over him and he forced his eyes to open despite the pain. Where was he? What was happening? How could he get out? _Could_ he get out?

He was sitting in the back of a van or...  _some_ thing. He had seen similar things in crime shows: it looked like the back of a police van. A metal bench ran along the walls, with thick metal rings attached to the back of the seats at even intervals. When he looked up, he saw a row of five people across from him, all dressed in black clothes that screamed, “punk rock”, like some sort of emo cult. He tried to wet his dry lips, but something cold and metal kept his mouth shut.

Any muffled attempts at asking what was happening was cut off by the van lurching to a stop. Prompto was jerked to the side, only kept in place by the cuffs around his wrists, ankles, and throat. He tried to scream as the wrist cuffs dug into his still-injured wrist with a massive, burning pain. Stars blurred his vision as his body was whipped the other way, allowing his wrist a brief respite before being tugged painfully the other way.

The five people stood up. Two reached behind Prompto and fiddled with something. A second later, they had released him from the metal bench and attached his cuffs to chains so they could keep a handle on him. Once Prompto had been secured, two other people opened the back doors of the van. Prompto blinked back the bright light assaulting his eyes, but he was pushed forward to the edge of the van and forced out. His legs felt weak, but he managed to stand up, mostly out of spite.

When his eyes adjusted to the light, he stopped short, trying to comprehend what was going on. The people who kidnapped him were dragging him towards the Citadel. But why the Citadel? And why was he being taken there in chains like a prisoner?

He soon got his answer as he was dragged through corridor after corridor. They stopped him in front of an ornate pair of doors. One of the black-clothed people whispered something into the ear of one of the guards standing by the doorway. The guard stiffened, glanced at Prompto, then at the person, then nodded quickly before darting inside the door.

After a few seconds, the doors swung open and Prompto was dragged inside. If he wasn’t muzzled, his jaw would have been hanging open; He was being dragged into the throne room of the Citadel. Why was he here? Were they finally going to tell them what was happening?

His heart sunk with the thought he had been trying to push back for the past fifteen minutes. Maybe they had found out where he was from and thought that he was a spy. His heart pounded in his throat as he was forced to kneel before the King and council. His chains were attached to the floor so he could barely move without one of the cuffs cutting off his circulation.

“Why is he muzzled?” The king didn’t sound as angry as he should have than an innocent kid was being tortured, but then again, he probably thought Prompto was a traitor and deserved it.

“The little bastard bit me. So we thought it was safer this way,” One of the black-clothed people spoke up, “but I’ll take it off.” He leaned in close to Prompto, “If you try anything funny, I’ll make sure that you will never be able to bite anything ever again. You understand?”

Prompto nodded slowly. He felt a little bad as he caught a glimpse of the bite wound on man’s hand. But only a little.

The muzzle was removed, and Prompto finally felt like he could breathe more easily. He licked his lips and asked in a crackly voice, “Wh-why am I h-here?”

The King barely blinked, face unyielding like granite. “You stand here accused of treason: The attempted assassination of my son, Noctis Lucis Caelum.”

 

* * *

 

Prompto couldn’t believe his ears. The accusations they had rained down on him for the past half hour hurt worse than the cuffs chafing his wrists, ankles, and throat and the raw imprint of where the muzzle had bit into his jaw. “Please!” He pleaded for the hundredth time, “Y-you have to believe me, I would _never_ do that!” He felt tears streaming down his face and wished that his arms were cuffed and chained in front of him so he could wipe them away. “I-I’m fifteen for the Astrals’ sake! I don’t know anything _about_ guns! I can barely run a mile without getting winded! Please believe me, he’s my _friend_!”

He looked around the room in desperation. The council members were uneasy, but their faces were hardened. Regis too. They already thought him guilty, he was just making them feel bad about their decision. He settled into muffled tears, trying to hide it the best he could. Where had everything gone wrong?

The door swinging open snapped Prompto out of his reverie. “His Highness, Prince Noctis Lucis Caelum!”

Noctis himself walked through the door, head held high and arm still in that silly sling he hated. He locked eyes with Prompto and stepped back, face slacking in shock. Oh, gods, did Noctis believe that he was evil too?

“Wh-what? P-Prompto?” The disbelief in Noctis’ voice was oddly comforting. Maybe Noctis would believe him after all.

Before Prompto could speak, plead for his friend to be on his side, the King stood up.

“Son, I need you to come with me.” The king’s voice was stern.

Noctis didn’t break eye contact with Prompto. “Wha-No! Not before someone explains to me why my _best friend_ is chained to the floor like a fucking _dog_.” His eyes flashed up to his father accusingly. Relief rushed through Prompto. Noctis was on his side. Thank the Six.

“I will explain everything, just… not here.” The King said, as if it wasn’t obvious he wanted to explain things out of earshot of Prompto. He turned to the guards lining the throne room, “Take the pr- take him to a cell.”

Prompto felt himself being jerked this way and that as the chains were released from the floor and he was hauled to his feet. He locked his panicked gaze on Noctis, hoping he would do something, but he just watched in open-mouthed shock as Prompto was dragged gracelessly away.

 

* * *

 

In the privacy of Regis’ study just off the throne room, Noctis felt he could safely blow up. “WHAT THE EVERLOVING _FUCK_ WAS _THAT_ ABOUT?” He screamed, not even really caring if it could be heard from outside. “Why the fucking _hell_ would you think it was Prompto, of all people? He’s nice, and funny, and he trips going up the stairs more times than he actually walks, it seems like. He’s not that strong, he’s not that fast either, he’s… he’s just a guy, Dad!” Noctis started pacing, mouth running a million miles an hour and heart hammering as his father waited patiently for him to stop.

“He’s always been there for me, but never expected anything. It’s kinda sad, really. But he’s not a killer. I’ve seen his eyes. You remember when I mentioned Luna was worried about Pryna? It turns out _he_ found Pryna and nursed her back to health. He didn’t even know who Pryna was, just that she was a dog who was hurt. He’s… He’s not a bad person, dad! I don’t know why you’re doing this to him, he’s not a bad person! He wouldn’t- he _couldn’t_ do this!” Noctis wiped away angry tears.

Regis sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. It really hurt to see one of his son's best friends suffer, but Regis also had to listen to reason, and all reason pointed to Prompto. “I, I understand son. But-”

“But nothing! If you know him, you’ll know he couldn’t hurt someone if he tried. We had a wrestling lesson in gym last semester, and he tutored this one kid who was failing. He did it on his own time for hours, with no compensation. He’s just too nice!”

“Noctis, I’m sorry, but we have video evidence. At the last attack.” Regis opened his laptop and pushed it over to his son, who looked at it in disbelief.

It was a still from a security camera, that much was obvious, showing a figure running down a staircase with a duffle bag clenched in one hand. The figure was very obviously Prompto, dressed in all black, with the barrel of a rifle poking out of his duffle bag. Noctis’ world reeled, and he fell back into a chair. “N-no… no, this… this is a fake, it has to be. No, this isn’t Prompto.” Noctis shook the dizzy feeling from his head and stood back up. “It’s not him.”

Pain flashed across Regis’ face. No doubt this was hard for Noctis to hear: his best, and maybe only, friend, apart from his bodyguard and advisor, was the one who had almost succeeded in ending his life. Regis couldn’t imagine how he would feel if the same thing happened to him. “Noct…” He started reaching his hand out to hold his son’s.

“NO!” Noct slapped his father’s hand away, jerking back so quickly he almost lost his balance. “No, it _can’t_ be him, you don’t understand! He-”

“The Crownsguard found a gun in his home that matches the kind used to attack you.” Regis cut off his son.

Noctis’ ears roared. “No,” he murmured, “No, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no…” His breath came in shallow gasps and he shook his head. There’s no way. There’s no _possible_ way… Y-you… you’re wrong. You have to be...” Noctis’ words lost all of their anger and passion. There was video evidence. There was physical evidence. Prompto had really done it.

He broke down in tears, falling to his knees as his legs gave out on him. All of those times that Prompto had been there for him, those bright blue eyes, the easy smile that lifted Noctis’s spirits, the smattering of freckles they jokingly drew shapes on during study hall, that silly, dorky _laugh_ that made Noctis’s insides flutter, had that all been a lie? He stiffened as warm arms wrapped around him. He fell back into his father’s hug, trying to stifle the tears. “I-I thought he was my friend…” He choked out into his father’s chest.

Regis nodded, rubbing Noctis’ back lightly. “I’m sorry it worked out like this. I really wish he wasn’t your friend.”

They sat on the floor, huddled together, until Noctis’ tears had subsided and he had pulled himself away from his father. “I-I need to go see him. Ask him why.” Noctis wiped away his tears and got shakily to his feet.

With a sigh, Regis nodded. “Just take a Kingsglaive with you,” He said.

“I thought the Kingsglaive were only supposed to protect _you_ ,” Noctis laughed mirthlessly.

“They do. And one will be seeing to the future king and protecting _him_ , for the time being.”

Noctis took a deep, shuddering breath, and nodded. “I’ll be fine.” He said. With little more than that, Noctis stalked out of his father’s private study. As the door slowly swung shut, Regis saw the Kingsglaive who had entered the throne room with his son follow him. He sighed, wishing not for the first time that he could take his son’s burden off him. It killed him more than the strain of keeping the wall strong to see his son suffer.

 

* * *

 

Luckily, Noctis’s Kingsglaive accompaniment was silent as she followed his increasingly quickening pace. He didn’t want anyone to comfort him anymore or apologize or say it was okay. He just wanted answers, and the only place to get those was right from the source.

He had never actually been to the dungeon before. It wasn’t used very much, since it was more of a holding cell than an actual jail cell, and it showed. It wasn’t very well-lit compared to the rest of the castle, and it smelled pretty bad. Faintly like blood, vomit, and piss all mixed together. Noctis wrinkled his nose. “Damn.” He muttered.

The sound of flesh slapping flesh and a soft yelp made Noctis pause for a moment before breaking into a sprint.


	6. A Desperate Plea

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompto tries to convince Noctis of his innocence

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is the chapter with the attempted non-con. There isn't any skin-to-skin contact, but the implications are there. I *will* fill you in on what happens in this chapter in the notes on the next chapter, just in case anyone can't/doesn't want to read this one.
> 
> I might also upload the next chapter so people who don't want to read this one aren't feeling left out, if I have the time. 
> 
> Also, thanks to Shiary for pointing out that Noctis probably gave up on Prompto too easily, you're a doll. I'm going to go back and tweak last chapter a bit, and I tweaked this one as well. And again, since I don't have a beta reader, I'm super open to criticism like that. I really do enjoy it, so don't be afraid of being harsh!

Prompto felt numb as he was dragged down corridor after corridor by three heavily-armed guards. This couldn’t be real life, it had to be a dream. Why would anyone think that he had the ability to kill someone? He got a little queasy watching gore on T.V!

He felt like crying, but tears wouldn’t come, and a numbing apathy settled over him, making his limbs feel heavy. This had to be a dream. It...it just had to be.

Suddenly, Prompto hear a loud, metallic _clang_ and glanced up. He was standing in the entryway to a jail cell, the door swung open. He wanted to cooperate, to step forward, but his legs stopped working. No, no. This was too real. He didn’t like it.

“Hey!” A guard slapped the back of Prompto’s knees with a baton, causing him to fall his knees heavily. “Get moving! Do you want us to force you in there?”

Despite his best intentions, Prompto couldn’t bring himself to do anything. His limbs didn’t want to work with him. He couldn’t even bring himself to apologize. He just hung there limply, only held up by the guards’ grips on the chains around his wrists and throat.

“Damn,” A guard behind him muttered, kneeing him in the back. “Get a move on!”

“Just pick him up, Riolta!”

“I’ll grab his arms if you grab his legs.”

“Fine!”

Prompto felt himself being lifted up and into the cell. He didn’t fight it, just allowed himself to be carried and dropped like a sack of potatoes. He didn’t even make a noise when his arms, legs, and throat were jerked back and the guards attached his chains to a spot in the cell.

“Not even a “thank you”, kid? Where are your manners?”

Prompto couldn’t get his voice to work. It was like he was trapped inside a broken robot: He wanted to scream, to cry, to do _something_ , but he was as lifeless as a corpse. Which he probably soon would be.

A foot snapped at his side, causing him to fall down heavily. His head cracked against the hard cement floor, but he barely mumbled, “...ow…” out of habit.

“Come on, I just need a little gratitude. You’re not as light as you look.”

Was that guard still talking? Was she the one who kicked him? He closed his eyes, just letting whatever happened next to happen.

A foot drove itself into his sternum, but his body just jerked, barely a sound escaping. Then the foot crashed into the side of his head, sandwiched between it and the floor.

“Shiva’s tits, Saemil. He’s just taking it, isn’t he?” A voice from near the bars of the cell sounded impressed.

“Gods above, he’s a kid. Let’s get going before we get in trouble.” A new voice from the same direction whispered harshly

“Don’t be such a spoilsport Riolta, it’s not every day we get someone down here. Especially one as pretty as this one, and one that just takes everything. Would be a pity to waste this opportunity,” The voice above him spoke.

“Astrals’ sake, Saemil, we’re leaving.”

“Oh, shut up. I’ve been single for years and no one’s going to come for him until tomorrow at the absolute earliest, so as long as none of you speak up, _Riolta_ , no one’s gonna know.”

“Ramuh above, you cannot be serious. I’m leaving.”

“Suit yourself.”

Prompto listened to the exchange with considerable apathy, considering what they were discussing. He didn’t want it to happen, but at the same time, just didn’t want to do anything either.

He felt someone straddling his legs, hands reaching for his belt buckle. A muted panic shot through him, and he miraculously found the strength to try and scoot away. A hand slapped his face, and he couldn’t bite back a soft yelp.

“Quiet. If you just shut up, it’ll all be over soon.” The guard’s voice was like honey as she started to unzip Prompto’s pants zipper.

No. No, he didn’t want this. He had to do something. _Was_ there something he could do? It didn’t seem like it.

Sudden footsteps cut off the guard’s advances and she quickly got to her feet and whirled on the unexpected guest. Prompto didn’t even have the energy to look up and see who it was. It didn’t matter. It didn’t matter that his chest hurt, or that his face felt bruised, or that his right wrist hurt even worse than before, or that his fly was completely open and pants pulled down a few inches. Nothing mattered.

“What the fuck is going on here?” Noctis’ voice kicked Prompto out of his stupor. “What the _fuck_ were you just doing?”

“H-h-Highness, I-”

“Shut up, I don’t wanna hear it. Anyone with eyes would know. And _you_! Why the fuck were you just watching? That’s almost worse!”

Prompto struggled to sit upright. His gaze caught upon Noctis who was trying to hurl himself at the guards, sword in hand, but was held back by an exasperated-looking Kingsglaive.

“Noctis,” The Kingsglaive shoved him back and got between him and the guards. “Shouting isn’t going to make this any better. Now, ladies, where are the keys to the cell?” She turned to the other guards, who scrabbled to obey. “Now let’s step into this nice cozy cell over here, yeah?” She motioned to a jail cell a ways away with false cheerfulness.

The guards were all too eager to obey the big scary Kingsglaive, and she shut them in with little trouble. “Any _one_ of you make a peep, and I’ll stick my foot so far up your ass you’ll be tasting custom-made leather for a week. Yeah? Good,” She winked and walked back towards the prince, who was staring at her in a mixture of awe and fear. “Now, where were we?”

“N-Noct…” Prompto sputtered out, relief rushing through him. He tried to get to his feet, to run to his best friend and fall into his arms, but the cuff around his neck cut him off, and he fell to the floor in a fit of coughing.

Noctis tried to run forward, since the cell door was still open, but the Kingsglaive held him back. “Friend or no, he’s still a suspected assassin. You’re not going in the same cell as him.” She said, eyes hard.

Noctis shrugged his shoulder hard, dislodging her arm. “He’s chained to the fucking wall. You saw for yourself, he couldn’t even _stand_ straight. It’s your job to protect me, not advise me,” Noctis stormed through the cell door.

“Oh my gods I _will_ kill him,” The Kingsglaive muttered under her breath, readying her daggers just in case, and following the prince inside.

“Noctis!” Prompto leaned forward, straining against the cuffs cutting off his circulation. “Thank the Six you’re here, you have to believe me-”

“I want to!” Noctis swiped away the angry tears that were welling up in his eyes as he spoke, “I _trust_ you! I-I _want_ to trust you. But-but there's so much evidence against you, I just don't know. I don't _want_ to believe it, I want to think you were just set up.” He looked over his best friend, no doubt taking in the bruises, the rawness around his mouth, how his pants were pulled down slightly. Noctis’ voice broke and he leaned forward to pull Prompto's pants up over his hips again. “Just-just tell me the truth.”

Prompto’s voice stuck in his throat. “N-Noct, i-it wasn’t me, I-I-I swear! Like, _wh-why_ would I do it? I certainly don’t benefit from _killing_ my _best friend_.”

“Then what about the security tape? Or the rifle the Crownsguard found in your house?” Noctis rubbed his forehead in an attempt to steady his shaking hands. "Can you explain that?"

“Wh-wha, n-no...” Prompto’s ears rang at the accusation. “But, I’ve never even seen a gun in real life, how could there be one at my house? And what security tapes are you talking about?”

Noctis dropped down to Prompto’s level, eyes puffy with held-back tears. “I want to believe you. I _really_ do! But there’s so much evidence, and I can’t just ignore it, but it wouldn’t be that hard to fake, and I-I don’t know!” He gripped the sides of his face, trying and failing to keep his voice level. He tried to meet his friend’s eyes, but found he couldn’t. “Prompto, I want to believe you’re my friend. I-I really do. But… I-I... I just don’t know. It’s all so confusing and painful, and-”

“Noctis, please, look at me.” Prompto’s voice was no steadier than Noctis’, but it was quieter, and Noctis found himself obeying. “I swear to you, on Bahamut himself, that I am innocent. I would never try to hurt you. _Please_ believe me.”

Noctis found himself at a loss for words. “I-I-I… I _want_ to, but I just _don’t know_ , Prompto!”

“Then what can I do to prove it to you?

Noctis paused. “You could state your case before a truth-sayer.” His voice was still scratchy from holding back tears, but it was more level. Prince-like.

“I’ll do it,” Prompto replied quickly, anxious for anything he could do to prove his innocence.

“It isn’t a fun experience.” Noctis warned. He had seen someone go through the process, once when he was ten. “You’ll feel like your insides are being ripped out. Your brain will feel like someone took a rake through it. That’s why it’s illegal to force it on someone. You can only do it when they request it,”

“I don’t care. If it will prove my innocence, I’ll do it.”

Noctis stepped back from his friend’s intense gaze. “O-okay. I’ll tell the Council you’ve requested it. It’ll probably take a day to make the necessary preparations, though,” He walked backwards out of the cell, eyes still held captive by Prompto’s.

 

* * *

 

Noctis didn’t even bother with being announced this time as he stormed into the throne room. The Council members were apparently taking a recess, though his father still sat in his throne contemplatively.

Noctis hurried up the steps to his father’s side, “Dad, Prompto said he wants to prove his innocence with a truthsayer.”

Regis’ eyebrows furrowed. “Is he aware of just how painful that is?”

“I-I told him. I don’t think he really understands how _bad_ it is, but he’s tough dad, and he wants to prove his innocence,” Noctis looked pleadingly at his father, praying to the Astrals that his father would allow it.

“Very well. I will discuss it further with the council. I suggest you rest in your chambers, son. You’ve been running yourself ragged, I can see.”

Noctis sighed. He _was_ feeling pretty tired, but he wanted to know the outcome. “Fine. But send for me the moment you come to an agreement, okay?”

Regis nodded, hands gripping his son’s comfortingly. “We’ll find justice. You just focus on recovering fully.”

With a sigh, Noctis climbed back down the stairs and out the door. He just wanted to pass out and not have to think for five fucking seconds. Everything was cold and confusing and felt like a weird fever dream. He rubbed his head and stormed into his room, slamming his door in an attempt to cut the Kingsglaive off.

She obviously didn’t take the hint, sticking her foot in the way before the door could close halfway. “You shouldn’t slam doors. That’s how they break.”

“You know, I don’t really fucking care! My best friend is on trial for my attempted assassination. I’m pretty sure I’m allowed to slam a few doors!”

“Fair.”

Noctis tumbled into bed, not even bothering to take his shoes off. He wanted to sob into his pillow, but couldn’t with the Kingsglaive in the room with him. “Can you just leave me alone?”

“No. Until we know that the threat to your life is gone, your father ordered at least one Kingsglaive to accompany you at all times. I have the lucky job for the time being.”

“Can you just… stay outside the door?” He could feel tears welling up in his eyes and he blinked them away.

“No.”

“JUST GO THE FUCK AWAY!” He screamed, slamming his hand against the nightstand. Tears fell down his face and he pressed his face into his pillow with a growl of frustration

The Kingsglaive didn’t even jump. “No.”

Noctis tried to hold back the tears, he really did. But they just came and he couldn’t stop them. Confusion and anger and fear overwhelmed him and he didn’t know how to deal with any of this. Dealing with an assassin was bad enough. But one who was your friend? How… how do you come back from that?

He managed to cry himself to sleep after too long, thoughts muddling into darkened dreams that he thankfully didn’t remember.


	7. A Reluctant Decision

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Regis and the Council make a decision over whether or not to allow Prompto a truthsayer, while Prompto tries to keep his spirits up

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ***The main thing that happened in the last chapter was that Prompto asked to testify before a truthsayer, even though its really painful. There were some tears and stuff. It was great.*** Note, there is fallout from the attempted non-con in this chapter as well.
> 
> I swear, this was originally supposed to be a Noctis whump fic. Not even a really whump-y one. But here we are. I put Prompto on the pain train to emotional scars-ville. Choo choo

“Highness, for Ifrit’s sake, wake up!” An unfamiliar Kingsglaive was shaking his shoulders roughly.

“Wha-?” Noctis slurred out, rubbing his eyes open.

“Highness, your father wanted me to inform you: the council has reached a decision regarding the truthsayer.”

That woke Noctis up. He jumped out of bed, scrambling to untangle himself from his covers as he ran out of his room. His new Kingsglaive babysitter looked bewildered, but quickly followed after him.

This time, the guards didn’t even bother to stop him. Instead, they opened the door and announced him as he skidded to a halt in front of the throne. Noctis was bent in half, trying to catch his breath.

“Noctis?” Regis raised a brow at his son’s haggard appearance. Luckily, the rest of the council members had retired for the day. Regis himself was just about to retire to his private study.

“Father! I heard you reached a decision? Wh-What did you decide?”

Regis sighed, “We agreed. The truthsayer will arrive tomorrow morning and the trial will be at noon.”

Noctis nodded. He wasn’t too eager to see his friend suffer under a truthsayer, but it would put an end to the whole affair. Then his voice caught in his throat. He knew he needed to bring it up, but he didn’t want to embarrass his best friend.

“Uh, dad?” Noctis moved closer to his father, although there was no need: they were all alone in the throne room. “I-Um, the guards you sent… to, to take Prompto, they, uh… I caught them…-”

Regis held up his hand, face dark with anger. “I am aware of what they did. Your Kingsglaive guard told me. Don’t worry, all three of them will be rightfully punished.”

Relief flooded through Noctis at his father’s words. “Th-thank you. I… Can I be there for the trial?”

“Of course. Come with me, there are a few things we should discuss.

 

* * *

 

Prompto shifted as his left arm grew numb from the position he was laying in. He groaned and rolled over, propping himself up on his right elbow. He flexed his fingers, trying to get his arm to obey. Thankfully, after Noctis had left, a new pair of guards had arrived and released his handcuffs and throat cuff before leaving him to himself.

He had quickly zipped and buttoned his pants and lied down on the small cot that was shoved against one wall. He was still chained by his legs, but at least those chains were longer and allowed him to move around some.

He still couldn’t believe everything that was happening. It made his head hurt to think about everything that had been happening. He tried to rub away the brewing headache but eventually gave up and at least attempted to relax against the stiff mattress.

He couldn’t get a wink of sleep. Every time he closed his eyes, black-clothed figures tackled him to the ground, muzzled him, choked him. Hands would tear at his clothes, at his bare skin. His friends and family would spit curses at him, saying he was too much of a burden to them.

He kept his eyes open, counting his breaths to keep them even. When that got him too close to sleep, he started pacing, reciting his lines to the play his group was putting on for his English class, as if he would need to know them after he was exiled for treason. Or worse.

He stopped suddenly. What did the kids back at school think? Did anyone call in for him?

Did the school think he was just sick or something? Did they think he was playing hooky? Or did they know? His stomach did little flip-flops and he forced himself to think about something else.

The man he saw almost every time he ran! Would he wonder where Prompto was? Would he think Prompto was being lazy? Or that he wasn’t running at the normal time? Would he even wonder what happened to the blond kid he saw?

Prompto shook his head. Of course not. What would it matter if he died, anyway. Sure, his parents would be sad, but they were rarely home. He didn’t have many people who he would really call friends. Mostly just acquaintances he could talk to if the need arose. With a defeated sigh, he sat down on the cot, pulling his legs up to his chest and nestling his head in his knees. He tried to hold back tears. He shouldn’t be this weak. He had to be strong.

But the barrier broke and the floodgates were released. It took all he had to keep the crying silent, and even that he couldn’t do.

 

* * *

 

He didn’t know how long it had been since the tears had stopped falling. He had taken to lying on his side and staring at the wall, trying to force himself to do something, but it was like when he was first thrown in here: he couldn’t bring himself to care about anything. He didn’t even look up when the cell door was unlocked and thrown open.

“Are you awake?” The voice belonged to a guard. Prompto didn’t really pay attention to their names or what they looked like

Prompto barely nod his head. That little action took all his energy.

“Good. Your audience with the truthsayer is coming up. We need to get you to there. I’m going to have to cuff you again, so just stay down. Okay?”

“N-not my neck… please?” Prompto hated how soft his voice was, like he was a weak child. But the thought of the metal cuff cutting into his windpipe just enough to make breathing tough forced his voice into action.

“Of course not. Just your arms and legs.” The guard’s voice was kind, and Prompto felt himself relaxing. The cuffs around his wrists were secure, but at least the guard was careful with his injured wrist.

“Get up now.”

Prompto closed his eyes. He could do this. It was easy. Just sit up.

When he didn’t actually sit up, the guard sighed, “Come on, now.” An arm wrapped around his upper arm, heaving him into a sitting position easily. He took a few seconds to blink back the dizziness.

“Now to your feet.”

Prompto obeyed this more easily, but slowly. He stumbled, and the hand gripping his upper arm tightened.

“Now, just keep walking.”

Somehow, he managed to keep his balance (mostly) as he was led through hallways and staircases. He didn’t realize how dimly lit the dungeon was until he got to the main floor. Brightness bombarded his senses, and he staggered back a few steps, scrunching his eyes closed and trying to shield them from the source of the light.

He felt the guards tense up at his sudden movements and mumbled, “Sorry. ‘S bright.” He opened his eyes partway, steeling himself against the pain and forced his feet forward.

By the time they arrived at the throne room, Prompto’s eyes had mostly adjusted to the light, and he barely stumbled. He swallowed hard as the doors opened. Two chairs stood facing each other in the middle of the throne room. One of them was a sturdy metal thing with leather cuffs for arms, legs, and head built into the chair itself. The second was a simple wooden chair with a red cushion on the seat.

_I wonder which one I’m gonna get…_ Prompto sighed internally. As he sat down in the metal chair and was cuffed to it, he looked around. There were council members, of course, and on the throne was King Regis. And next to _him…_ Prompto swallowed a lump in his throat as he locked eyes with Noctis. Their gaze lingered on each other for a few seconds before Noctis looked away.

“Is this him?” A middle-aged woman in the robes of a mage of the Kingsglaive stepped out of the shadows. Prompto would have jumped if he wasn’t cuffed to a chair; he hadn’t noticed her before. She took the wooden chair and scooted it closer to him.

“Are you ready to get started?”

Prompto tried to nod, but the leather cuff holding his head to the metal chair prevented any movement, so he answered, “Yes,” in a raspy voice.

“This will hurt. A lot.”

Saying that it hurt was an understatement. He felt like his organs and muscles were being pulled out of his body through his skin. His brain felt like it was being squeezed through a cheese grater. He screamed and thrashed against his bonds, suddenly realizing why he was secured so tightly. If he wasn’t bound down, he probably would have bashed his head open against the metal back, the pain was so bad. There was no way he was going to survive this.

After just a few seconds of mindless pain, he found himself falling down into darkness.


	8. An Apprehensive Peace

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The aftermath of Prompto's trial under the truthsayer.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is half angst, half fluff (somehow). It was fun to write!

Noctis’ fingernails dug into his thighs as he watched Prompto writhing an agony for a few seconds before his body went limp. His eyes were still open, but half-lidded and glassy

The Kingsglaive mage nodded at Regis, who nodded back at her.

“What is your name?” She asked.

‘Prompto Argentum,” Prompto’s voice lacked any of its usual inflections. It was almost as if a robot took control of his friend. Noctis had to work to contain a shiver.

“How old are you?”

“I’m fifteen.”

“Did you attempt to assassinate Prince Noctis Lucis Caelum?” She asked. Noctis’ breath hitched in his throat and he unconsciously leaned forward.

“No.”

Blessed relief spread through Noctis and he felt himself let out a breath he didn’t know he was holding. The council members turned to one another, muttering.

“Do you know who _did_ try to assassinate Prince Noctis Lucis Caelum?”

“No.”

The Kingsglaive mage stood up and bowed. “I believe my work here is done. Are there any more questions you wish me to ask?”

Regis thought for a few seconds. “Does he know why he was framed for it?” He asked.

The mage nodded and repeated the question to Prompto.

“No.”

Regis stood, and Noctis quickly followed. “Then I am satisfied,” the king nodded to his council. “Does anyone object to the pardoning of Prompto Argentum on the proof of admission through a truthsayer?”

The silence that stretched out was palpable. Noctis forced himself to breathe normally as his father took in the silence around him.

“All in agreement to the pardoning of Prompto Argentum on the proof of admission through a truthsayer?”

One by one, each member of the council spoke, “Aye,” Relief flooded through Noctis at each member’s agreement.

“Then let it be decided. Prompto Argentum is innocent of all charges,” He turned to the truthsayer, “You may release him.”

The truthsayer nodded and placed a hand on Prompto’s forehead. His spine arched and his mouth opened in a silent scream. Then his body relaxed, and his eyelids slid shut.

Noctis didn’t even wait for his father to dismiss him or the guards to undo the cuffs before he bounded down the stairs to his best friend’s side.

Prompto was slumped forward, and only Noctis’ gentle hand on his chest kept him from falling out of his chair when the cuffs were taken off. Prompto stirred slightly, eyebrows upturning and eyelids fluttering.

“Hey, Prompto…” Noctis shook Prompto’s shoulder lightly. “Time to get up.”

With a start, Prompto straightened and looked around, taking in the sights around him before finally fixating on Noctis in semiconscious confusion. “Wha-”

Noctis didn’t even wait for Prompto to finish his sentence, instead gripping him in a fierce hug. Noctis buried his face in Prompto’s shoulders to hide the sobbing, not caring that the hug sent shoots of pain into his injured arm. “I’m so, so, _so_ sorry for not believing you.” He said, voice cracking under the weight of his guilt.

Prompto relaxed. “So, I really am innocent…” He heaved a sigh of relief. “I was honestly starting to believe that I was guilty…” He returned Noctis’ hug, patting his head gently. “I’m glad I’m not.”

Noctis pulled away, wiping tears from his face. “ _You’re_ glad? Think about _me!_ I would have had to find a new best friend!” He joked.

Prompto’s face broke into a grin, and it was like everything was back to normal.

“Come on, I can take you home if you’d like.” Noctis offered a hand to Prompto, who took it. Prompto was a little shaky on his feet, but with Noctis’ hand on his arm, he managed to shuffle forward.

“Noctis, wait.” Regis was walking down the steps of the throne room, Clarus right by his side. “I don’t think it’s a good idea to return Prompto to his house. After all, he was specifically targeted as a decoy. I will make arrangements for him to stay here, under guard, for as long as necessary,” He turned to Prompto, “And I am also willing to extend that offer of safety to your family. I can have a member of the Crownsguard out to pick them up in ten minutes.”

Prompto’s face flushed. “Oh, Th-that’s very kind of you, uh, Y-your Highness… or, or is it Your Majesty? I-nevermind. I- I live alone. So I don’t think my family will be in danger.” He looked down at the ground.

Regis looked perplexed, but thankfully didn’t press the issue. “Very well. Noctis, I trust you will make Prompto feel welcome?”

Noctis rolled his eyes, “Yes, _dad_.” He straightened, and more seriously, said, “But thanks. For freeing him.”

“I just apologize that this whole thing had to happen in the first place. It-” Regis paused and sighed, “I wish we didn’t have to put you through this.” His eyes were soft as he met Prompto’s.

Prompto merely nodded, not trusting his voice any more.

“Then go,” Regis gave a small smile, “Have fun.”

 

* * *

 

Instead of bringing him to the guest quarters where Prompto assumed he would be staying, Noctis told him they would be going to his own quarters. Prompto wondered whether that was because the servants needed to prepare the room, or because Noctis wanted to be close to him. Prompto himself hoped it was the latter.

They arrived at a set of gilded wooden doors. Noctis opened them slowly, easing Prompto in. The room was about the size of Noctis’ apartment. A half-wall divided the sleeping area from the living area, which was complete with a flat-screen T.V, several gaming consoles, and a bookcase completely filled with DVD’s and games. The bed was large and comfy-looking, though unmade. A door next to the bookcase was slightly opened, revealing what appeared to be a bathroom.

Noctis’ hand carefully left his hand. “You okay for now?” He asked, looking Prompto up and down. “‘Cause you kinda look like shit.”

Prompto barked out a laugh, but found it hurt his chest, so he held it in. “Heh, I bet I do. Can-” He bit his lip. He didn’t want to seem to forward, but at the same time, he _really_ wanted a shower.

His eyes must have flicked to the bathroom, since Noctis immediately started nodding, “Yeah, go wash up. I’ll have some new clothes for you too, those seem kinda, um… Kinda smelly.”

With a nod, Prompto shuffled into the bathroom. It was clean enough, save for a few jars of hair product and skin care shuffled haphazardly across the counter. He turned on the shower and started undressing himself, taking care not to jostle his injured wrist. Before stepping into the shower, Prompto unwrapped his wrist, hissing with the renewed pain. His barcode was slightly warped and discolored from the bruising and Prompto shuddered just looking at it. He probably needed a doctor to treat it, but that was out of the question.

So Prompto settled with scrubbing every inch of his body, trying to metaphorically cleanse himself of the past few days. He didn’t know how long he was in the shower, but by the time he had finished, the entire bathroom was full of steam and he could barely see his smudged reflection in the glass of the mirror. He quickly rewrapped his wrist and wrapped a towel around his waist, making sure it was hiked high enough to hide his stretch marks.

He took a few breaths to center himself and assure himself that he was okay now, that no one knew who he really was. Then he stepped into Noctis’ room, shivering from the transition from the steamy bathroom to cool bedroom.

Noctis glanced up from his spot on the couch. “Hey. A maid took your clothes to the laundry, but you can use those,” He pointed towards a stack of clothing sitting next to the bathroom door.

Prompto quickly gathered up the clean clothes and slipped back inside the bathroom to change. The pyjamas were warm and comfortable, and smelled of laundry detergent. He vaguely wondered how often Noctis had worn these clothes, or if they were even Noctis’ to begin with. He quickly shook himself out of his thoughts and joined Noctis on the couch.

“Do you wanna watch T.V or play a video game?” Noctis asked, glancing at his bookcase full of video games and DVD’s.

Prompto shrugged and sat down on the far end of the couch, drawing his knees up to his chest. He could feel the stares of the Crownsguard tasked with watching over both of them, and it made his stomach turn at the thought of someone trying to target him.

He was just Prompto, no one special.

No one worth targeting.

“-ompto! You in there?”

Prompto jerked back as Noctis’ hand waved in front of his face. “Wh-yeah, sorry. Just… just tired.” He caught a glimpse of Noctis’ concerned face and immediately tried to hide his pain. “Never mind that, I really wanna watch this series. I’ve heard it’s good.”

  
“Uh-huh.” Noctis didn’t look convinced, but turned to the television nevertheless. Prompto burrowed himself into a pile of fluffy blankets. He leaned against the armrest, allowing his eyes to drift shut after a while.

 

* * *

 

Noctis continued watching Prompto out of the corner of his eyes, a mixture of guilt and anger clutching at his chest. It wasn’t fair that Prompto had been through all this, and it wasn’t fair that the person who did all this was still free. He clenched his fingers, forcing himself to concentrate on the show.

Just as the ending credits were about to roll, Noctis heard Prompto mumble something unintelligible. Noctis cranked down the volume and turned to his friend. “What’s up?” He asked.

There was no response, save for even breathing.

Noctis smiled. “You asleep, buddy?” He asked. When there was no answer, he sighed and leaned back. “I guess you’d rather sleep on the couch rather than your own-”

Noctis’ next words were cut off when Prompto spasmed, meaningless mumbles growing in volume until he could hear what Prompto was saying.

“Please….no. ‘S not me.. Please! Stop!”

Heart hammering in his chest, Noct shook Prompto awake roughly. “Hey. _Hey!_ Prompto!”

Prompto’s eyes shot open, and he froze, eyes darting around for a few seconds before his whole body relaxed back into the couch. “...just...It was just a dream…” Prompto was breathing heavily, and he flopped his arm over his eyes in an obvious attempt to keep Noctis from noticing that he was crying.

“Yeah, it was just a dream.” Noctis soothed, running his fingers through Prompto’s hair gently. “But it’s over now. It can’t hurt you.” He paused, waiting for Prompto’s breathing to even out. “Do...do you want to talk about it?”

Prompto shook his head slowly.

Noctis bit his lip, more guilt running through him. It was because of _him_ that Prompto was being targeted. He had to do _something_ to make him feel better. “Well, do you want to sleep over here? That might make you feel better than sleeping alone.”

There was a pause, and Prompto nodded slowly. He mouthed his thanks, then withdrew his arm from over his eyes.

“No problem. Here, let’s watch another episode, then we can go to bed. Come over here.” Noctis guided Prompto to lay his head on Noctis’s lap and resumed tracing light circles in the blond’s hair. By the time the opening credits of the next episode finished and Gladio had taken over guarding them, Prompto was breathing deeply, fast asleep. His face was wan, his eyes were sunken, and he clutched his right wrist to his chest as if it caused him a lot of pain, but he looked peaceful. With time, he would recover.

When the episode finally ended, Noctis was hesitant to remove Prompto’s head from his lap, but it needed to be done. He patted Prompto’s cheek gently to wake him up. “Hey. Why don’t we move over to the bed? It’s a little more comfortable than the couch,” He said with a slight grin.

Prompto’s eyes furrowed, “We?” He asked, voice heavy with sleep.

“Yeah,” Noctis shrugged. “It’s big enough for both of us.”

Noctis wondered how conscious Prompto was for the move, because the second he put his head down, he was fast asleep. Noctis soon joined him, protected by Gladio’s watchful eye.


	9. An Unexpected Twist

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The assassin's true identity is revealed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm so sorry.
> 
> Just... I'm so sorry.

The last thing he remembered was falling asleep in a comfortable bed. He shot upright, looking around in confusion. The prince was sleeping next to him. His back was towards him, curled up in a fetal position. The prince’s guard, Gladio, was lounging on the couch, flicking through his phone. He glanced up at the noise.

“Oh, hey Prompto,” He whispered. “Sorry. Did I wake you?”

Relief flooded through him. Gladio didn’t seem any the wiser to the change. He put up his fake smile and shook his head. “Nah, just… I just gotta go to the bathroom,” he lied. To get to the prince, he would have to take out the Shield quickly and quietly. His mind whirled through the problem.

Gladio nodded and turned back to his phone as Prompto stepped into the bathroom and locked the door. He kept the lights off, to save his eyesight. He wouldn’t want to be fighting with his eyes not adjusted to the light, especially against someone of Glaido's caliber. Prompto was small, but with the right weapon and the element of surprise, he could incapacitate a larger target.

Once he solidified his plan, Prompto flushed the toilet, and turned on the faucet, pretending that he had actually been doing what he said he was doing. When exited the bathroom, Gladio barely glanced up.

“Thought you’d fallen in, you took so long,” He whispered, trace of amusement on his face.

“Ha.” Prompto replied as he was expected, sticking out his tongue petulantly. He started to walk back to the bed when he pretended to catch a glimpse of something. “What….” He trailed off, creeping closer to the gilding on the wall. “Gladio, do you see that?” Prompto pointed at nothing.

Gladio was on his feet in and instant. He pushed Prompto behind himself roughly. “What is it? Where?”

Prompto leaned over Gladio’s shoulder, pointing with one hand and grabbing a heavy desk lamp with the other. “Right there, that shiny thing,” In a swift motion, he stepped back and slammed the base of the lamp into Gladio’s skull. There was a sickening _crunch_ , and Gladio collapsed on the ground in a heap.

Prompto tsked himself. He hadn’t been quick enough to keep Gladio from making noise. And that noise made Noctis shift in his sleep. Damn it, everything was going to hell. He didn’t have a decent weapon (bludgeoning someone to death with a desk lamp made such a mess), so hands would have to do.

Stradling Noctis’ waist, Prompto wrapped his hands around the prince’s vulnerable neck and squeezed. He could feel Noctis’ pulse quicken underneath his hands, his throat scrabble for air.

Finally, he would succeed.

 

* * *

 

Noctis couldn’t breathe. He tried to force his lungs to work, to take in air, but it didn’t work. What was happening? Did he turn over in his sleep? Was he accidentally suffocating himself? He needed to turn over, to get air. He tried to force his body to obey, but his throat constricted, keeping him in place. No, something, or some _one,_ was keeping him in place. Those felt like hands around his neck.

He forced his way to consciousness to try and fight back. Where were Prompto and Gladio? Why weren’t they here? Were they okay?

All thoughts of his friends’ well-being was chucked out the nearest window at the sight of the person trying to asphyxiate him.

Pure shock at Prompto’s uninterested face kept Noctis from fighting back for a good five seconds, until stars started swirling at the edge of his vision. His mind panicked, and his fingers scrabbled uselessly along Prompto's arm. Without thinking, he slammed his fists into Prompto’s wrists. There was a loud _pop_ , and the pressure from Prompto’s right hand disappeared.

Taking advantage of the opportunity, Noctis summoned a dagger. He stared at it dumbly for a moment. He couldn’t _stab_ his _best friend_ , even if said best friend was literally trying to kill him at that very second. With a desperate heave, Noctis threw the dagger towards a wall and warped to it.

His warp was sloppy, tainted by sleep, panic, and dizziness. He missed the handle of the dagger and slammed face-first into the wall next to his weapon. His mind barely registered the sudden availability of air in favor of the pain in his nose as he fell to the ground.

He tried to move, he really did. But his body refused to cooperate, as if punishing him for all those years of never eating enough vegetables and too much lazing about. He tried to control _something_ as Prompto came into view. He was sauntering, as if he had all the time in the world. He looked from Noctis to the dagger in the wall, and smirked. Noctis’ heart sunk. He could see the headlines now: “Heir to Lucis Throne Killed By Own Dagger! More Inside!”

Trying to force his body to just fucking _move_ , he was forced to watch helplessly as Prompto pulled the dagger out of the wall and carefully brushed the drywall off the blade. The world blurred in and out of focus, and it took everything he had not to fall into unconsciousness.

Prompto leaned down over him, tracing an imaginary doodle over Noctis’ cheek with the tip of the blade. Not so hard that it left a mark, but just enough for Noctis to know he could have if he wanted. “I wish I could have fun with you…” Prompto’s words sounded wrong coming out of his mouth, almost like someone else was speaking using his voice.

With a shrug, Prompto brought the dagger up and started stabbing down.

Before the knife could plunge more than a foot, a large hand gripped Prompto’s wrist in a vise-like grip and a fist crashed into the side of his head. Prompto’s head went with the momentum of the punch. It smacked against the wall and he went limp, dropping the dagger to the ground.

With a grunt, Gladio released Prompto’s wrist, not bothering to soften Prompto's fall onto the ground, and picked up the dagger. He turned to Noctis, who was lying semiconscious on the ground. “Hey, Noct, are you okay?” Gladio knelt next to him, shaking his shoulder roughly. “What the hell happened? Noct?”

Seeing the threat neutralized and his Shield okay, Noctis allowed his eyes to close and darkness to completely overwhelm him.

 

* * *

 

Ignis got the call at 2:24 in the morning. He internally groaned, but when he caught sight of the caller, a flash of panic coursed through him. Gladio wouldn’t call him at this time unless it was an emergency. As he answered the call with a terse, “Hello?”, he threw the covers off and slid on his glasses. He didn’t even bother with putting on a real shirt, opting to be on the move as soon as possible. His stockinged feet made barely a noise as he hurried down the hallway towards the prince’s room.

“Iggy, you… you need to come here. It- We found the assassin.” Gladio’s voice was strained, and he was breathing hard.

“Oh. Well, that’s good news. Is Noctis well?”

“He’s alive. But… It’s not good news. About the assassin, I mean. It-” Gladio growled, a low sound deep in his throat. “Just get over here. Noct’s gonna need us.” Then the other line went dead.

Ignis was left more confused than worried as he broke into a sprint. Why was the Citadel so damn _big_? And why were his quarters so far from Noctis’?

A few minutes later, he slid to a stop in front of the prince’s door. He took a moment to compose himself, then slipped inside. He stopped short at the sight in front of him.

Noctis and Prompto were both lying on the floor, unconscious. Noctis had bruise marks around his throat, and blood dribbling out of his nose. Prompto didn’t look much better: A bruise sprawled out from one cheek, and blood matted his hair on the other side. A bloody spot on the wall showed where his head most connected with the wall. Gladio was sitting between the two, nursing his own head wound with a hiss.

“What happened?” Ignis tried to keep the emotion out of his voice. Panic would do no good. He just needed the facts.

Gladio sighed and drew back his hand to look at the blood. “You’re not gonna like it,” He replied, watching as Ignis retrieved clean towels from the bathroom. Ignis made a noncommittal noise, handing a hand towel to Gladio. He took it and pressed it to his wound, biting back a grunt of pain.

“I was watching over the kids, like I was supposed to. Prompto got up and said he had to go to the bathroom. Then as he’s coming out, he says he sees something. I go to look at it, and I’m hit in the side of the head with something. Next thing I know, Noctis is lying on the floor, and Prompto’s about to stab him,” Gladio paused, gauging Ignis’ reaction. Eyebrows drawn, mouth in a tight line. He’s confused and angry.

“So I stepped in and try and stop him,” Gladio shrugs, “And I did. Then I called you and Cor,” He finished, bringing away the towel to see how bad his wound was.

“I was under the impression that Prompto was subjected to a truthsayer and proven innocent.” Ignis tried to remember exactly what had been said. Had there been any room for ambiguity? He could have sworn that the questions had been directly asked and answered, but perhaps his memory was deceiving him. He would have to look over the tapes again.

“Yeah, same here. But _obviously_ someone fucked up.”

“The question is-” Ignis was cut off as a group of four black-clothed figures burst through the door, led by Cor Leonis himself.

Cor looked over the situation. His eyes flicked from Noctis, to Ignis, to Gladio, to Prompto, then back to Gladio. “What happened?”

Gladio explained everything, just as he did to Ignis.

Cor’s face darkened and his gaze locked on Prompto’s unconscious form when Gladio revealed who was behind the attack. Then he turned to the Crownsguard behind him. “Take him to Secure Cell 1. Strap him down and everything. We’ll get to the bottom of this,” He said gruffly.

A sudden movement made Ignis glance down. Noctis was craning his neck to see behind him, where the Crownsguard were starting to pick Prompto up. He muttered something inaudible, and Ignis leaned closer to hear it.

“Highness, are you-” Ignis pulled his head back as Noctis sat straight up. His eyes glazed over, and he started to sway. Before he could topple back, Gladio placed a steadying hand over his shoulder blades. “Highness!” Worry strained Ignis’ voice as he shook Noctis’ shoulder lightly. “You need to wake up.”

Slowly, the confused haze drifted away, and Noctis blinked slowly. “I-Iggy? Wha…? What’s going on?” He looked around dazedly. Then he stiffened, eyes turning bright with held-back tears. “...Prompto…”

The name turns into a choked-back sob. Ignis lowers his gaze as Gladio starts to rub Noctis’ back comfortingly.

“I-I don’t understand. How? He-he didn’t do it!” Noctis pushed Gladio’s hand away, wobbling slightly, but managing to stay upright. “The truthsayer said so”

A silence stretched out, marred only by Noctis’ hiccupping breath.

“I’m sorry, Highness,” Ignis’s soft voice broke the silence first, “I’m afraid I don’t have any answers. Only Prompto has those.”


	10. A Closer Step

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Everyone gets one step closer to the truth.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, yeah. It was Prompto all along. SURPRISE!

Prompto wasn’t even entirely awake yet, and he wanted to go back to sleep. Everything hurt: his head, his shoulders, his wrist, his legs. He felt like he was sleeping on a cheap motel cot rather than a prince’s bed.

He tried to turn on his side, but something was wrapped around him. Was it Noctis? Prompto tried to blink away the sleepiness. His entire body ached, the pains in his wrist and head forcing his world into clarity

Then he started panicking.

He wasn’t in Noctis’ room, that much was obvious. The ceiling was a dull grey, and the light above him was dim and cheerless. He was lying down on a cot with his wrists, chest, and ankles strapped down with leather restraints. 

“Wh… what…?” He tried to get his voice to work, but only managed a raspy, “Help…” He knew it was pointless. Whoever had him now obviously had him somewhere secure. If they had enough resources to kidnap him from the palace- 

Oh gods, what happened to Noct? Was he safe? 

As if drawn in by the thought, Noct’s face appeared in his peripheral vision. Prompto didn’t know whether to be relieved or terrified. If Noctis was here, that meant that whoever got Prompto got Noctis as well. He turned his head to get a better look at his friend.

Noctis wasn’t bound to anything. Instead, he was leaning against a wall, arms crossed over his chest. His eyes were puffy, as if he had been crying, and… and were those  _ bruises _ on his neck? Bruises in the shape of handprints. Prompto clenched his fists, promising a swift end to whoever did that to his friends.

“H-hey…” Prompto managed, meeting his friend’s gaze. “Where are we? Are you okay?” He asked.

“Is this some kind of sick joke to you?” Noctis asked dully. “Just playing with my emotions so I don’t know what to think any more? ‘Cause congratulations, it fucking worked.” 

Eyebrows furrowing in confusion, Prompto tried to comprehend Noctis’ resigned anger. Towards  _ him _ ? “What are you talking about?” He asked. “Noct, I-”   


“Save it.” Noctis turned and stalked towards a door on the far wall. He opened and closed it without problem, slamming the door as he left.

Prompto tried to think, tried to make something make sense. He was tied down, but Noctis could move freely in and out of the room Prompto had  _ assumed _ was their cell. Cogs turned in his head. If Noctis could leave and he couldn’t, it seemed as if this room was his cell alone. But why?

He didn’t have to answer that question as the door swung open and Noctis walked in, followed by several more people. He recognized Gladio, Ignis, and the King, as well as the truthsayer from last morning. But there was also a man witha stern expression and short brown hair whom Prompto didn’t recognize as well as a pair of Kingsglaive soldiers.

“What’s going on? Noctis, please!” Prompto pleaded. 

Prompto had only seen Noctis’ face this cold when they came across a pair of kids taunting a stray kitten in an alley. Noctis stalked up to the bullies, this same cold look on his face and forced them to stop. He shuddered at seeing this gaze turned upon him.

“How did you do it?” The truthsayer didn’t look angry or mad, just intrigued.

“How did I do  _ what _ ? What’s going on? Why am I here? You don’t still think I’m guilty, do you?”

“ _ Think _ ?!” Noctis’ voice cracked with barely-suppressed rage. “I watched you try to strangle me with your own damn hands!” He stepped closer, fists clenching so hard his fingernails bit into his palm. “You nearly killed Gladio, and me! Don’t you fucking  _ dare _ try to squirm your way out of this!”

Prompto’s ears roared. Oh, gods this was happening again. He couldn’t do this. No no no nononono, he couldn’t deal with this again. His heart pounded in his chest, his breath came in short gasps and his vision tilted slightly. He couldn’t breathe. Everything was painful and fuzzy and he couldn’t breathe and he had tried to kill his best friend and oh gods he was going to die.

 

* * *

 

Anger flared up in Noctis’ chest as Prompto still played the innocent friend. Noctis tried to not let himself be fooled by the tears in the corner of Prompto’s eyes, or the earnestness of his voice. He had seen Prompto’s face when he was at his mercy, when all traces of guilt or innocence were gone from that freckled face.

He stepped back as Prompto’s eyes widened, and he started breathing quickly, as if he couldn’t quite get enough air. Tears leaked out of the corners of his friend’s glazed-over eyes. “Wh-what’s wrong with you? Are-” Noctis caught himself. He shouldn’t care if Prompto was okay or not. After all, Prompto didn’t really seem to care for  _ him _ , after all.

“I-I…” Prompto choked out. “I c-can’t breathe. Wh-what’s h-h-hap-pening? I-I-” 

Ignis stepped forward. “Allow me,” He spoke in a low voice to Noctis. Then he sat on the edge of Prompto’s cot and put his hands lightly on the blond’s shoulders. “Prompto, you are having a panic attack. It won’t last long, as long as you breathe deeply,” Ignis’ voice was calm and level. 

Noctis vaguely wondered how Ignis could be so kind to someone who had just tried to kill his two best friends. If Noctis was the one in a position to help someone who hurt his friends, he would probably let them suffer. But if that person was Prompto? 

He shook himself out of that thought and concentrated on Ignis.

“That’s it. Deep breaths. In….hold it….and out…. That’s it. You’re doing well, you just need to keep breathing.” Ignis rubbed Prompto’s shoulders comfortingly.

After what seemed like too long, Prompto’s breathing slowed to a regular rhythm before quickly transitioning to hiccupping sobs.

“Oh gods….” Prompto whimpered, screwing his eyes shut against the tears. “Oh gods, I thought it was just a dream….It was only a dream….I-I didn’t think it was real,” He turned his head towards Noctis. “I’m so so  _ so _ sorry! I-I didn’t know. I-I...I didn’t  _ think _ . Please, believe me!”

Furrowing his eyebrows, Noctis looked around the room, trying to see if anyone else knew what Prompto was talking about, but everyone seemed just as confused as he was.

“Prompto,” Regis stepped into Prompto’s line of sight, “What “dreams”? What are you talking about?”

Biting back his sobs, Prompto took a deep breath. “I-The past few weeks, I’ve had some really weird d-dreams,” Prompto explained. “And, and I’m pretty sure they happened when… when Noctis was, um, attacked.” He shuttered a breath.

“Like, one I was hunting a chocobo. Well, not hunting, like, shooting a tranquilizer dart to give it medicine or something, but it saw me and ran away. And then the next time, I was doing the same thing, but this time, I climbed a tree to hide. I-I kinda hit the chocobo, but I fell out of the tree and hurt my wrist…” He glanced down at his bandaged wrist and then closed his eyes, steeling himself for what was coming. 

“A-And then, just now, I had this… this dream with the weird guy from a couple weeks ago, and he-he was trying to  _ kill _ me, and I just panicked, and the only thing I could do was to… to….strangle….him...and, and I don’t think those were dreams…” Prompto’s voice slowly trailed off, and he looked from face to face desperately. “ _Please_ , I wouldn’t have done it if I knew, you have to believe me!” He pleaded.

Looks ranged from discomfort to confusion to utter disbelief. 

“Who was this “weird guy” you mentioned, Prompto?” Ignis asked.

“It-it was this weird guy. I was walking home and he ran into me, and we kinda started talking, and then the next thing I know, I’m back home and it’s the middle of the night,” He paused. “I’m starting to think he was a dream, too. I don’t know anything, I’m sorry.” Prompto tried to cry, to let out this intense sadness and grief, but nothing came. He was almost disappointed.

“That’s very possible,” Ignis conceded. “However, it’s also possible that this is a form of hypnosis. Perhaps you were targeted because of your proximity to His Highness, and this man is the one who did it.”

“Sorry to burst your bubble, but you can’t hypnotize someone to kill, nor can it give them skills they don’t have, like marksmanship.” The truthmage spoke up, “Hypnosis is simply a state of hyperfocus. For something like this, it would have to be almost pre programmed into his brain.”

Ignis paused. Of course, he should have thought of that.

“....oh….” Prompto’s voice was barely audible. Ignis didn’t even think the others heard it.

“What is it, Prompto? Did you remember something?”

Prompto’s breath started quickening, and his fingers started shaking, signs that he was beginning to have a panic attack. Ignis gripped his shoulders again, reminding him, “Breathe, just like I told you before.”

Prompto obeyed, and quickly recovered. “It…. I need my left hand free…. To show you.” He said, voice barely a whisper.

Ignis looked to Cor, then Regis, for confirmation. After wary nods from them both, Ignis carefully undid the cuff around Prompto’s left wrist. 

He didn’t move for a good ten seconds, taking deep breaths as if to steel himself for what was coming next. 

“I….I haven’t exactly been, well, truthful….about….about myself. There’s something, um…” Prompto took a deep breath.  “There’s something I have to tell you.”


	11. The Truth Revealed

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Secrets are revealed and sacrifices made.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Starting to wrap up here. I don't know how to end this story, but I'm fairly happy with how things are turning out!

Everyone in the room was on edge, waiting for Prompto’s next words.

He paused again, left hand slowly unwrapping his right wrist. Ever so slowly.

“I...I’m not- I don’t,” He made a frustrated noise in the back of his throat, why couldn’t he just _say_ it? “I-I’m not Lucian. I’m...I’m, um, from Niflheim.”

More of the wrap came undone. He could _feel_ the intensity in the room increase. All eyes were on him. He paused, concentrating on not further injuring his wrist. Oh, gods it hurt so much more now, a pulsing, aching pain that made him just want to curl up in a ball and cry.

“I, I got away. When I was little. Somehow.” He unwrapped the last of the bandage, revealing his barcode, warped by the bruising that had somehow gotten much worse. It hurt to even move his fingers, and almost it looked like the hand was almost disconnected from the rest of his arm.

A confused murmur ran through the room at the tattoo, and Prompto had to suppress his tears. “I’ve had this as long as I can remember. I don’t know what it means, but…” He paused, trying to collect his thoughts instead of having them tumble out in a confused mess, “But I think it has something to do with what’s been happening.”

A long silence stretched out. One minute passed, then two, as everyone tried to wrap their heads around everything, not willing to be the first to break the silence for want of anything of importance to say.

“Please, someone say something…” Prompto whimpered. His heart was pounding in his chest. He needed to know what the others thought, if they hated him now. Well, he knew they would, but he needed to know how much? Would they still let him hang around with Noct? Maybe Noct would hate him, too. He tried to suppress that thought.

“Well, shit,”

Of all the people to speak up, Prompto didn’t think it would be the truthsayer.

“I think I know what happened,” The truthsayer sighed. All eyes turned to her, and she flushed. “Maybe. This is a bit of a personal question, I suppose, but do you have any kind of diagnosed mental disorder? Depression, anxiety, autism, anything?” She asked.

“Um, no?” Prompto furrowed his eyebrows, wondering what that could have to do with anything at all.

The truthsayer ran a hand through her hair. “Well, damn. Then I think I have an idea what’s going on. When I was extracting the truth, I noticed this… I don’t know how to describe it, this _spot_ , I guess. A spot on your intangible mind. Normally, this is a sign of some mental disorder. I’ve seen it a dozen times. I noticed yours seemed… odd, but I figured it was nothing. Obviously, I was wrong.”

“You mean… you mean there’s something in my brain making me do this?” Prompto’s breath rattled in his chest. His hands shook. “Take it out!”

“I’m afraid it isn’t that simple,” The truthsayer sighed. “It- it’s not in your brain. It’s in your mind.” She met blank looks and shook her head. “Never mind. You can’t perform surgery to remove it, it’s implanted in your unconscious mind.”

Prompto paled. He was silent for a moment as he worked to process this new information. He should have figured his tattoo wasn’t innocuous, that it was the mark of something not altogether benevolent. He should have figured that he didn’t deserve Noctis’ friendship. But he knew there was one way to remedy the problem.

"W-well, then. I-if it can’t be r-r-removed, I-I….I guess there’s only one solution.” He leaned his head back against the pillow, fighting back tears. He didn’t want to die, but he’d rather die than kill his best friend.

“What are you talking about, Prompto?” Noctis asked worriedly. “I’m sure there’s more than one way to deal with this, right?” He whirled on the truthsayer.

“Six, kid, yeah. Ramah’s beard, don’t talk like that.” The truthsayer snapped. “I said _surgery_ wouldn’t work, because that only deals with tangibility. But I work on the intangible level.” She said.

Heart leaping into his throat, Prompto had to bite back a wave of relief. “So you can get rid of this… this spot? You can make it so I won’t hurt my friends?”

The truthmage nodded slowly. “I can, if that’s what you wish and His Majesty agrees. But keep in mind, it will be painful. I will essentially be burning away a part of yourself. If I mess up even a little, something that makes you _you_ might be lost. It might be something minor, like sticking your tongue out when you think. Or it might be something major, like how you react to touch. I hope you realize how much faith you are putting in me.”

Suddenly, Prompto’s mouth was dry. She certainly wasn’t making the offer seem appealing. But really, what option did he have? “I don’t care. Just do it.”

The truthsayer glanced at the king, who nodded, and set her jaw. “Very well. I’ll do my best.”

 

* * *

 

Five minutes into the endeavor, Noctis had to leave. Ignis followed soon after, more to make sure that Noctis was okay rather than inability to listen to Prompto scream himself hoarse. Though that was definitely low on his list of things to do.

Ten minutes after that, Gladio joined them. He shook his head, “That kid has got a pair of lungs. I-I didn’t want to listen to it any more.”

A few minutes later, Cor joined them. “It’s done.” He said, motioning them to follow him.

Noctis almost bowled over Cor in his rush to get to Prompto, to get this entire affair over with.

When he barged into the room, the truthsayer was sitting against the far wall, looking absolutely exhausted. Regis spoke to her in hushed tones, freezing mid-speech as Noctis came in. He didn’t even bother to demand to know what they were discussing. He didn’t care. He only cared about Prompto.

Everything was so confusing, so weird, so _wrong_. His best friend was from Niflheim, he could deal with. Whatever. His best friend had a fucked-up tattoo from his fucked-up childhood, he could manage. Everyone has emotional baggage. But his friend being a sleeper agent set out to kill him? That would make sleepovers difficult.

Agonizingly, Prompto was unconscious, and no amount of shaking or tapping would get him to wake up. Noctis growled and whirled, kicking the wall in frustration. “I just need to _know_! Is he okay? Will he try to kill me again? How can I know if it’s safe?!” He yelled at nobody in particular, not even expecting an answer.

“He won’t try and kill you.” The truthsayer’s voice was raspy, “At least, not because of whatever the hell the Nifs did to him. But I don’t know if, or how, he will be different now.” She leaned her head against the wall. “He’ll be out for a while, probably.” She admitted.

Noctis made an aggravated noise and started pacing. When he got too tired from pacing, to sat down next to the truthsayer, who had fallen asleep. Slowly, people started to leave, starting with Ignis who said he should prepare dinner. Next was Regis, who needed to get to an important meeting, followed closely by the Glaives, then Cor. Gladio was the last to leave, not even giving an excuse.

Noctis didn’t know how long he sat there, listening to the truthsayer’s deep, even breaths. Long enough for his butt to go numb. Long enough for the sun to disappear from the window. Long enough for Noctis to wonder if Prompto would ever wake up again.

By the time Prompto blinked the sleep and pain back, the truthsayer had already woken up and stumbled off, leaving Noctis with a ball of anxiety in his chest. When he saw his friend open his eyes, the entire tangle straightened itself out, melting away at the sparkle in Prompto’s eyes.

“Is-” Prompto’s voice was scratchy, and he coughed for a solid ten seconds. Each one hurt Noctis’ heart, and he bit his lip. “Is it done? A-am I okay?” Prompto asked plaintively.

“Yes. You are okay.” Noctis assured him, taking his left hand between two of his own. “And you _will be_ okay. I’ll make sure of it.”

Prompto nodded slowly. Now that he had the luxury of relaxing, the pain from his wrist flared up, agonizingly white. He jerked, trying to bite back a whimper, but the movement only served to anger his wrist, and this time, he couldn’t hide a small grunt of pain.

“Are you okay? What’s wrong?” Noctis asked worriedly, hands hovering over his friend’s body, ready to help at a moment’s notice.

“Wr-wrist… It-it’s worse.” He hissed, screwing his eyes against the pain.

Noctis hurried to uncuff Prompto’s injured wrist, as well as his ankles and chest. “C’mon. I’m taking you to the doctor.”

Before Prompto could protest-he was still dangerous, he would be fine, the pain would fade with time, he didn’t want to be a bother- Noctis brought Prompto’s good arm around his shoulders and helped him stand. “No arguments,” Noctis cut off Prompto’s spluttering, “You need to get that looked at.”

Realizing nothing could change his friend’s mind now, Prompto sighed and let himself be half-led, half-dragged down corridor after corridor until Noctis stopped in front of an unassuming pair of doors.

“C’mon.” Noctis smiled, “Let’s get you all fixed up.”

 

* * *

 

The truthsayer had done a great job, he had to admit. Noctis barely noticed any changes to Prompto’s behavior. He seemed to be a bit more antsy, tapping his feet or drumming his fingers with more frequency, he stopped clicking his tongue when he was thinking (a blessed relief), and he started snacking more. But if Noctis hadn’t known to look for the differences, he wouldn’t have seen them. All things considered, those few changes were worth Prompto not trying to kill him at a moment’s notice.

After the stress and tension and revelations of the last few weeks, Noctis and Prompto managed to smooth everything out to a state of relative normalcy. Noctis chose not to ask about Prompto’s backstory, and Prompto chose not to tell. Instead they swept the issue under the figurative rug. Certainly not the best coping mechanism, but neither Noctis nor Prompto had a good grasp on their emotions, so it was hardly unexpected.

The investigations into the culprits behind the assassination had been run into the ground. Prompto had spoken to Cor Leonis more times than he could count, giving as much information as he could, but he didn’t have much. He couldn’t really remember the face of the person. He knew that it was a man, pretty tall. He had short brown hair, and maybe some stubble? He couldn’t place much else. He had tried to sit down with an artist, but it seemed that the more he tried to remember it, the more he forgot.

Even at night as he lay in bed, trying to remember any details, anything at all, he always fell asleep before he succeeded. Eventually, he just stopped trying.


	12. An Accidental Success

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Verstael wins the "Worst Father Ever" award and Ardyn is a little bit of a dick. As usual.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So this is it. The end... I always feel like I can't end my fics, but I think this one isn't too bad. So I hope you enjoy!

The first time the unit didn’t show up to rendezvous, Verstael hadn’t been worried, assuming it was busy doing its job.

The second time, he realized why. He had heard word from multiple sources that the second attempt on the Prince’s life had been made a while ago and that the suspect had been caught on tape and detained. Little more than that had been leaked, but Verstael assumed the unit had been captured and killed. A failure.

Hardly a surprise.

Which was why, on the third, obligatory, meeting, Verstael was surprised to find a figure waiting for him just outside the Wall. Upon closer inspection, it was too tall and broad to be the unit, with shoulder-length hair and a thick coat. 

Oh, gods, not him.

“Ah! Verstael! What brings you  _ here _ of all places? And at  _ this _ time of day? Well, night would be more accurate, I suppose.”

“Chancellor Izunia, what a surprise.” Verstael didn’t even try and hide his aggression. “I am currently running a few tests on the runaway MT unit. If it had been better trained, perhaps it would have worked better,” He shrugged. “But from the results, I think it is a success. If we release more of these units into Insomnia, in just a few years, we could tear down the walls from the inside out. Lucis would then be only a matter of time.”

Ardyn hummed. “You know,” He drawled, “I’ve gotten word that the prince was nearly assassinated recently. Twice.” He turned to Verstael, eyes cat-like and dangerous. “I hope your little  _ experiment _ didn’t have anything to do with that, or we might have a slight...  _ issue _ .”

Verstael grunted. Ardyn had a weird fixation on the Lucian prince. He had made it clear time after time that the prince was not to be killed under any circumstances, but never explained his reasons. 

“And if it did? It hardly succeeded, the prince still lives, as far as I’ve been told. I merely wanted to know if the procedure works so long after it was first implanted. And it does. Though the unit failed, the larger experiment is a success.”

Ardyn leaned dangerously close. “You have been told on multiple occasions to leave the prince out of any danger. By the Emperor, no less. If word of this gets back to our dear Iedolas, your son won’t be the only Besithia to be tried for treason. Maybe the Emperor will have as much mercy as the Lucian king, ut I wouldn’t count on it.” 

Even in the subdued lighting, Verstael could make out the smile twisting Ardyn’s lips, like an animal who’s finally cornered its prey. He forced back a shudder, not dignifying Ardyn’s words with a response.

“I’m sure we could forget this little... _ incident.  _ I just need you to know one thing…” Ardyn trailed off, waiting for Verstael to ask what.

He didn’t.

Ardyn sighed. “You owe me favors. What I want from you, I get. No questions asked, no strings attached.” 

“And if I refuse?”  
“The punishment for treason is death,” Ardyn shrugged. “I’m sure one of your protégés will sufficiently carry on your work.” He started walking away, towards the Wall. “But I’m quite sure that won’t be necessary. Take care!” He called back over his shoulder.

Verstael was left standing there, anger coloring his vision red. It was a good thing that Ardyn had walked away, because Verstael honestly might have tried punching him. There was something incredibly off-putting about that man. Six knows how or why the Emperor put up with him. 

But Verstael knew a dangerous man when he saw one, and simply drew back. Everything was proceeding as expected. Soon, Lucis would fall.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wow. Thank you all for the tremendous amount of support y'all have been giving me. Going from a fanfic that barely got a review every few chapters to more than three per chapter has been a really big confidence boost. I'm enjoying making fanfics again and interacting with fellow fans and making people cry because I'm apparently actually Satan.
> 
> So, thank you to everyone who made this fic such a wild ride. And thanks to r3zuri for making this prompt. I had such a viscerally creative reaction to it and I'm so thankful.
> 
> Visit me!
> 
> [Main blog](http://justanotherfxckingfangirl.tumblr.com/) (Cosplay, Yu-Gi-Oh, Star trek, random crack.)  
> [FFXV blog](https://stuck-in-ffxv-hell.tumblr.com/) (So much Prompto oh my god. Also a lil' bit of Ardyn because why not)


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